YOUNG  MRS,  WINTHBOP. 


A    PLAY  IN  FOUR   ACTS. 


BY 


BRONSON    HOWARD. 


Published  in  accordant  with  the  requirements  of  the  copyright  law. 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED, 


MADISON  SQUARE  THEATRE,  NEW  YORK, 

1882. 


YOUNG  MRS,  WINTHBOP, 


A   PLAY  IN  FOUR  ACTS. 


BY 


BBONSON    HOWARD. 


Published  in  accordance  with  the  requirements  of  the  copyright  law. 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED. 


MADISON  SQUARE  THEATRE,  NEW  YORK, 
1882. 


COPYRIGHT,  1882, 
Bv  M.  H.  MALLORY 


CHAEACTEES. 


MRS.   RUTH  WINTHROP. 

MR.  DOUGLAS  WINTHROP,  HEK  SON. 

CONSTANCE  WINTHROP,  HIS  WIFE. 

BUXTON  SCOTT,  A  LAWYER. 

MRS.  DICK  CHETWYN,  A  LADY  OP  SOCIETY. 

EDITH,  SISTER  OP  CONSTANCE. 

HERBERT. 

DR.  MELLBANKE. 

MAID. 


We  fell  out,  my  wife  and  I, 

0  we  fell  out — /  know  not  why — 

And  kiss'd  again  with  tears. 
For  when  we  came  where  lies  the  child 

We  lost  in  other  years; 
There  above  the  little  grave, 
0  there  above  the  little  grave, 

We  kiss'd  again  with  tears. 

TENNYSON. 


LULLABY.— "Golden  Slumbers. 


Composed  by  FRANK  A.  HOWSON. 

moderato  con  espress.  — =m: 

Gold  -  en      slumbers    kiss    your    eyes,     Smiles  a  - 


wait    you      when        you        rise  ;      Sleep,    lit  -  tie 


dar-ling,    do    not     cry.  And     I    will    sing      a 


rail,  e  dim. 


lul  -  la  -   by,  And    I    will  sing    a        lul    -    la 


Lul    -  la    -     by,       lul  -  la    -  by. 


YOUNG  MRS.  WINTHROP. 


ACT  FIRST. 

SCENE. — Interior  of  a  private  residence  of  a  man  of  wealth 
in  New  York.  Door  R.  1.  E.-;  also  R.  u.  E.  A  mantel 
and  fire  R,,  near  front.  An  easel,  with  portrait  of  a  beau 
tiful  little  girl  of  four  years,  up  c.  Small  stand  or  table 
down  L.  c.  ^1  number  of  presents  for  a  child's  birthday,  on 
chairs  and  other  piwn  of  furnitinv,  o.  and  L.  c.  Some  of 
tliese  presents  must  be  such  as  are  referred  to  in  the  dialogue. 
Evening.  Lights  for  ordinary  family  life.  Discovered : 
MRS.  ROTH  WINTHROP,  sitting  before  fire  down  R.  She 
Juts  a  doll,  partly  dressed,  in  Jier  lap,  and  is  working  on  its 
little  bonnet.  She  is  singing  a  lullaby,  as  she  works,  when 
the  curtain  rises. 

MRS.  RUTH.  There,  Miss  Dolly!  (Trying  bonnet  on  the  doll 
and  holding  it  up)  you  will  have  a  beautiful  little  mother  to 
morrow,  and  I  shall  be  your  great-grandmother.  Your  name 
is  to  be  "  Ruth'' — after  me— how  do  you  like  it  ?  Your  little 
mother  has  a  very  large  family  already,  but  I  am  sure  she  will 
love  you  more  than  any  of  the  rest.  (Kisses  the  doll.)  Lie  here, 
my  pet.  (Holding  the  doll  to  her  b  re  a  .ft.)  You  must  go  to 
sleep  at  once,  for  mother  Rosie  will  be  up  very  early  in  the 
morning.  (Enter  DOUGLAS  up  L.)  H-s-h.  (Sings  as  at  rise 
of  curtain.,  petting  the  doll.) 

,--  DOUG.    (At  the  back  of  her  chair,  leaning  over  her.)    Playing 
with  a  doll,  mother? 

MKS.  RUTH.  Douglas!  (Looking  up  and  la  ugh  ing  quietly.) 
Yes.  I  had  forgotten  my  gray  hairs.  I  was  a  child  again, 
like  Rosie.  We  old  folks  grow  young  again  in  our  grand 
children. 

^/-DouG.     You've  never  grown  old,  mother.     You've   always 
been  living  the  same  sweet  loving  life. 

MHS.  RUTH.  (With  ei  quiet  laugh.)  Leave  any  woman  alone 
with  a  doll  five  minutes  and  she  will  be  holding  it  to  her  heart 
without  knowing  it. 

,--DouG.     (With  a  sigh,  up  c.)     Ah!  mother,  I'm  afraid  some 
''women  outgrow  it.     Where  is  Constance  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.     In  her  room.    (Rising.) 


6  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 


Is  she,  too,  at  work  for  Rosie's  birthday  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.     Well—  no—  not  j  ust  now.     She  is  dressing  for 
the  reception  at  Mrs.  Warrington's. 
^.DOUG.     Ah  !  I  did  not  know  she  was  going. 
'    MRS.  RUTH.     You  have  forgotten  it?    You  have  barely  time 
to  get  ready. 

„  DOUG.  Herbert  will  look  after  Constance.  I  have  another 
engagement  ;  I'm  going  to  supper  at  the  club.  I  must  dress 
at  once.  Good  night,  mother—  if  I  do  not  see  you  again. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Good  night,  my  son.  (He  kisses  her  and  moves 
to  the  door  up  R.) 

DOUG.  (Stopping.  Aside.)  I  asked  Constance  not  to  go  to 
night.  (Exit  up  R.)  - 

RS.  RUTH.  (Alone.  Looking  after  Douglas  and  shaking  her 
head.)  Douglas  and  Constance  see  less  and  less  of  each  other 
every  day.  I  am  very  anxious  for  them.  "Business"  and 
"  the  club,"  and  the  "  duties  of  society,"  are  changing  them  into 
mere  acquaintances.  Every  time  I  have  visited  them,  for  the 
last  two  years,  I  have  found  them  more  indifferent,  colder  to 
each  other.  Love,  even  like  theirs,  cannot  live.  It  is  terrible 
—  terrible  !  But  I  —  1  can  only  look  on  and  be  silent.  (Sits  L.  c.) 

Enter  HERBERT  up  R. 

HERBERT,     (c.)    Aunt  Ruth  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.     (Seated,  L.  c.)    Herbert  !     What's  the  matter  ? 

HER.     I've  got  to  go  to  the  ball   to-night  with   Constance. 

ncle  Douglas  isn't  going.  He  says  he  has  an  engagement  at 
the  club.  He  always  has  an  engagement  at  the  club  —  or  some 
where  —  and  he  always  leaves  me  to  go  out  with  Constance. 
This  is  the  fourth  time  in  one  week.  I  hate  balls.  (Crossing 

MRS.  RuTHrYouiiate  balls  !     You  were  very  fond  of  them 
last  winter.     You  went  nearly  every  evening. 
*   HER.     It  was  different  then.     Where  is  Edith  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.  Edith  ?  (Looking  up  significantly  —  then  after  a 
pause.)  She's  with  Rosie. 

HER.  (After  a  pause.)  Aunt  Ruth,  how  much  income 
ought  a  man  to  have  before  he  can  get  married  ;  not  enough  to 
make  a  show  on,  but  for  him  and  his  wife  to  live  happily  to 
gether? 

MRS.  RUTH.  That  depends,  my  dear  boy,  on  how  much  they 
love  each  other.  Two  people  who  love  each  other  very  much 
can  be  exceedingly  happy  on  a  very  moderate  income. 

HER.  Well—  I'm  sure  I  love  her  enough  to  be  happy  on 
nothing  at  all. 

MRS.  RUTH.    Her? 

HER.  Oh!  Aunt  Ruth—  (crossing  to  her)  —  I  can't  talk  to 
any  one  else  about  it  ;  but  —  (taking  her  hand  ;  she  looking  up  in 
Ids  face  smiling)  —  everybody  can  talk  to  you.  I  —  I  do  love 
Edith. 

MRS.  RUTH.     My  dear  boy,  I  know  it. 


YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  7 

HER.  My  salary  is  only  twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year ;  but 
Uncle  Douglas  told  me  to-day  he  will  raise  it  to  fifteen  hun 
dred  after  the  first  of  March.  That's  because  I  have  been 
working  so  hard — ever  since  I  first  began  to — to  feel  that  Edith 
might  share  it  with  me.  I've  saved  five  hundred  dollars  since 
then.  I  never  saved  a  cent  before.  I  have  been  wearing  my 
old  clothes,  and  I  have  my  gloves  cleaned — I  don't  care  wheth 
er  they  smell  of  turpentine  or  not,  when  I  go  to  balls,  now, 
with  Constance — and  I've  given  up  cigars.  I  do  love  Edith. 

MRS.  RUTH.  You  have  chosen  the  very  best  way  to  make 
love  to  her  ;  working  hard  and  saving  your  money  for  her  sake. 
But  I  will  speak  to  you  as  if  I  were  her  mother,  Herbert ;  for 
her  own  mother  and  her  father  lie  side  by  side  in  the  church 
yard  at  Concord.  Have  you  really  thought  what  it  means  to 
marry  a  blind  girl,  like  Edith  ? 

HER.  (With  enthusiasm  increasing  as  he  proceeds.)  It 
means,  Aunt  Ruth,  that  I  shall  always  have  to  take  care  of 
her,  as  if  she  were  a  little  child  ;  it  means  that  I  shall  be  her 
whole  world ;  I  shall  be  her  protector  ;  she  will  depend  upon 
me  for  everything  ;  I  shall  have  to  work  for  her,  and  oh !  how 
hard,  I  shall  work,  when  she  is  at  our  home  thinking  of  me.  I 
love  her  all  the  more  for  being  blind. 

MRS.  RUTH.  You  have  thought  about  it,  my  boy.  If  Edith 
loves  you,  even  her  blindness  need  not  keep  you  apart. 

HER.  If — she  loves  me.  (/Sighs.)  I — I  can  never  tell  whether 
she  does  or  not.  She  doesn't  seem  to  know  the  difference  be 
tween  loving  me  and  loving  any  of  you.  I  might  as  well  try  to 
make  love  to  little  Rosie  as  to  Edith. 

MRS.  RUTH.     She  knows  as  little  about  it  as  Rosie. 
•HER.     Yes.    (With  a  smile.)    That's  because  she's  blind.     I 
love  her  blindness. 

MRS.  RUTH.  No  one  has  ever  spoken  to  her  of  love  or  mar 
riage.  She  lives  in  a  little  world  of  her  own.  You  must  wait 
for  her  woman's  nature  to  assert  itself  in  her  heart. 

HER.    I  thought,  perhaps,  you  might  help  me  a  little. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Help  you  ? 
-  HER.     If  you  would  talk  to  her  about  it,  just  to  let  her  know 
that  when  /tell  her — I  love  her — it  isn't  quite  the  same  thing 
— as — as  any  of  you  loving  her,  you  know. 

MRS.  RUTH.  It  is  awkward  for  a  young  lover,  isn't  it,  Her 
bert  ?  Perhaps  I  can  do  something  for  you.  But  you  are  only 
twenty-two  and  E_dith  is  only  seventeen.  You  can  both  wait. 

Enter  CONSTANCE  up  R.     She  is  in  full  evening  dress,  cloak 
over  her  arm,  fan,  etc.     (Crosses  c.) 

CON.  (As  she  enters.}  Are  you  ready,  Herbert  ?  Not  dressed  yet  ? 

HER.  Eh?  —  Oh!  (Suddenly  bolting  across  stage)  It 
won't  take  me  ten  minutes.  (Aside.)  I  hate  these  balls. 

(Exit  up  R.) 

CON.  The  boy  is  always  late  now.  (Talcing  up  doll.)  You 
have  finished  Rosie's  doll.  What  a  sweet  little  lady  she  is. 


8  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHKOP. 

(Laughs  lightly — then  with  a  sigh.)  I  could  not  finish  the  doll 
I  was  dressing  for  Rosie.  I  have  had  no  time  to  do  anything 
for  my  child's  birthday.  I  was  obliged  to  send  down  town  at 
the  last  moment,  this  afternoon— and— and— buy  a  present  for 
her.  (Sits  R.  c.) 

MRS.  RUTH.  (Crossing  R.  c,)  And  here  it  is.  Rosie  will 
be  delighted  with  it. 

CON.  (Shaking  her  head  sadly.)  Rosie  will  love  this  doll 
better  than  that.  Children  seem  to  feel  the  difference  between 
what  is  made  for  them  with  loving  hands,  and  what  is  only 
bought  with  money.  Rosie  can  look  so  far  into  one's  heart 
with  those  great  blue  eyes  of  hers.  I  sometimes  tremble  when 
my  child  and  I  are  together. 

MBS.  RUTH.  (Tenderly.)  When  Rosie  looks  into  your  heart, 
Constance,  I  am  sure  she  finds  a  great  and  true  love  there  for 
her. 

CON.  (Rises.)  It  is  there — yes — it  .is  there  ;  but  so  many 
other  things  are  there,  too — I — I  sometimes  fear  the  child 
cannot  always  find  it. 

MRS.  RUTH,  [c.]  We  shall  have  a  merry  day  to-morrow, 
Constance.  Rosie  will  be  awake  long  before  breakfast.  Edith 
and  I  have  promised  to  be  up  as  soon  as  she  is,  and  bring  her 
down  to  see  the  presents  ;— and  when  you  and  Douglas  come 
down — 

(CoNS.  suddenly  strikes  bell  on  table  R.  c.) 

CONS.     I  shall  be  up  as  early  as  you,  mother. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Rosie  will  wake  before  six. 

Enter  MAID  up  L.  E. 

CONS.  (To  MAID.)  Have  me  called  at  five  o'clock  to-morrow, 
Jeanette. 

MAID.     Yes,  madam.     (Exit  up  L.) 

MRS.  RUTH.     You  will  not  be  in  bed  before  three. 

CONS.  If  I  can  spare  time  for  a  fashionable  ball  to-night, 
I  need  not  rob  my  child  of  it  on  her  birthday.  I,  too,  shall 
be  with  Rosie  all  day,  to-morrow. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Oh  !  we  shall  have  a  happy  day,  all  of  us.  But 
I  fear  Edith  may  have  some  difficulty  in  getting  Rosie  to  sleep, 
the  child  has  so  many  plans  in  her  head  for  to-morrow.  I  will 
go  to  them.  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  time  this  evening, 
Constance.  Good  night.  (Crossing  R. ) 

CONS.  (Kissing  her.)  Good  night,  mother,  dear.  (Exit  MRS. 
RUTH  R.  1  E.  Shall  I  go  to  Mrs.  Warrington's  to-night  ? 
Douglas  was  very  much  in  earnest  when  he  asked  rne  not  to  go. 
But  he  is  going  to  his  club.  He  is  never  at  home.  I  must  go. 
If  I  stay  at  home,  I  cannot  help  thinking.  Oh  !  if  I  had  died  be 
fore  his  neglect  began  !  I — (slowly  as  if  a  more  painful  thought 
had  come  into  her  mind), — I  sometimes  feel  that  Douglas  and  I — 
(sees  the  child' s picture.)  No  !  Rosie  !  She  belongs  to  us  both  ! 
She  will  hold  us  together.  (Stands  a  moment  in  thought,  then, 
smiling.)  How  prettily  she  threw  her  arms  about  my  neck  and 


YOUtfG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  9 

kissed  me  good-night  just  now.     Shall  I   go  to  Mrs.  War- 
rington's  ? 

Enter  MAID  up  L.  with  a  letter. 

MAID.  A  letter  for  Mr.  Winthrop — by  messenger.  No 
answer,  madam. 

CONS.  I  will  give  it  to  him.  (Taking  letter.  Exit  MAID.) 
Shall  I  go  to-night?  (Looking  at  letter  in  her  hand.  Raises 
it  to  her  face  as  if  attracted  by  the  odor. )  Violet !  It  is 
not  a  business  letter.  A  lady's  handwriting  !  (She  turns  the 
letter.)  A  dove  and  a  serpent  as  a  crest — H.  D. — from  Mrs. 
Hep  worth  D  unbar.  (Leaves  note  on  table  R.  c.,  and  crosses 

tO  I,.) 

Enter  DOUGLAS,  now  in  dress  suit,  up  R. 

^- DOUG.     Constance!     (Stopping  c.) 

CONS.     Douglas  !    (L.  c.) 
,^-DouG.     You  are  in  full  dress,  I  see. 

CONS.  Madam- de  Battiste's  latest  inspiration.  Do  you  like 
it? 

DOUG.     It  is  a  very  becoming  costume,  my  dear. 

CONS.  You  are  in  evening  dress.  You  are  going  to  accom 
pany  me? 

-DouG.  I  am  engaged  for  a  supper  at  the  club  with  Dick 
Chetwyn. 

CONS.  Jeanette  just  brought  in  a  note  for  you — it  is  on  the 
table. 

DOUG.  Ah  !  (Turning  to  table.  CONSTANCE  watches  him  as 
he  opens  and  reads  letter.) 

CONS.  (Turning  away  with  her  back  toward  him.}  Anything 
important,  Douglas  ? 

DOUG.  (After  looking  across  at  her  quietly,  then  placing  the 
letter  in  his  pocket.)  Merely  a  business  matter.  (Turning  to 
presents  c.  and  L.  c.)  Rosie  will  be  quite  overwhelmed  with 
her  birthday  presents  to-morrow. 

CONS.     (Aside.)    Business! 

DOUG.  I  ordered  a  little  walnut  bedstead — ah  !  here  it  is. 
A  dressing-table  and  mirror,  with  cut-glass  perfumery  bottles, 
and  a  box  of  cosmetics,  and  a  tiny  jewelry  casket.  (Reads  card.) 
"Mrs.  Richard  Chetywn."  A  very  characteristic  present. 
(R.  c.)  Here  is  a  magnificent  doll,  in  full  ball  costume,  with  real 
lace  and  a  long  train,  and  a  coiffure.  Another  of  our  ultra- 
fashionable  friends  sent  that,  I  suppose.  It  does  seem  a 
pity  to  put  such  ideas  into  the  head  of  an  innocent  child. 
(Leans  over  and  reads  card.)  "From  Rosie's  mamma."  (He 
glances  at  CONSTANCE.)  Forgive  me,  Constance,  I  was  speak 
ing  thoughtlessly.  Any  expression  of  a  mother's  love  is  sacred 
to  me.  Constance — I — I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you  in  that  cos 
tume  to-night. 

CONS.     You  did  not  wish  me  to  go  to  Mrs.  Warrington's. 
^DouG.     Mrs.  Warrington's  house  is  a  centre  of  a  certain  kind 
'of  fashionable  society  in  New  York.     The   men   are   rich  and 


10  YOUKG   MRS.    WLNTHROP. 

fast,  and  the  wives  vie  with  the  men  in  the  display  of  their 
riches.  Constance,  you  have  never  cared  for  this  extremely 
"  fashionable"  circle  until  within  a  year  or  two. 

CONS.     I  had  no  reason  to  seek  it. 
Reason  ? 

CONS.     Some  women  find,  in  the  gayeties  of  this    society, 
something  to  compensate  them  for  what  they  do  not  find  at 
home. 
^  DOUG.     (Quickly.)    What  do  you  mean,  Constance  ? 

Enter  MAID  with  a  card  in  an  envelope. 

MAID.     Madam — 

(CONSTANCE  takes  card.    Exit  MAID.) 

CONS.  (Reading  card.)  "Mrs.  Richard  Chetywn" — (Turning 
card  over.)  "  Dick  is  going  some  where  to-night,  so  I'll  come 
around  and  go  to  Mrs.  Warrington's  with  you." 

DOUG.  Constance  !  (Rising.)  It  is  my  earnest  wish  that  you 
should  not  go  to  the  ball  to-night.  (Pause.)  I — I  am  sorry  that 
I  am  compelled  to  speak  so  strongly,  but  I — I  insist. 

CONS.  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  command  me  not  to  go  ? 
.--  DOUG.  I  did  not  use  that  word,  Constance.  I  will  never 
use  it.  I  have  too  much  respect  for  you  to  do  that. 

CONS.  (Aside.)  Respect !  (She  drops  into  a  chair,  her  face 
in  her  hands,  on  the  back  of  the  chair.  He  crosses  to  her,  looking 
down  at  her  tenderly.) 

DOUG.  Constance — my  wife  !  When  we  were  married,  six 
years  ago,  in  the  old  church  at  Concord,  as  we  knelt  to  receive 
the  blessing  of  the  pastor — your  own  dear  father — a  ray  of 
bright  sunshine  coming  through  the  window  fell  upon  our 
heads.  For  many  a  month  after,  that  sunlight  seemed  to 
rest  upon  us,  and  when  Rosie  came,  the  pastor's  blessing 
seemed  to  be  fulfilled.  Constance,  I — I  have  tried  to  be  a  kind 
husband  to  you. 

CONS.     A — kind — husband — yes. 

--  DOUG.  And  you  have  been  a  true,  sincere,  and  devoted  wife 
to  me  ;  yet,  for  the  last  two  years  or  more,  we  have  been  drift 
ing  apart  further  and  further.  You  speak  of  compensation  in 
that  fashionable  world  for  something  that  you  do  not  find  at 
home.  Are  you  likely  to  find  anything  there  to  compensate  you 
for  the  happiness  which  you  once  found  here  ?  Does  Mrs. 
Warrington,  or  Mrs.  Maxwell,  or  Mrs.  Dunbar  fulfil  your  idea 
of  a  truly  happy  woman  ?  No,  Constance. 

CONS.     Mrs.  Dunbar  is  a  leader  of  the  circle. 
"  DOUG.     Yes.     I  believe  she  is  the  worst  of  the  set.     I  am 
glad  to  know  that  you  have  no  personal  acquaintance  with 
her.     A  woman  who  respects  herself  ought   to  avoid   such  a 
person.     (Crosses  R.) 

CONS.  That  is  your  opinion  of  Mrs.  Hep  worth  Duubar? 
(Rising.) 

DOUG.  It  is.  And  I  trust  that  my  wife  will  never  be  seen 
in  her  company.  (Looks  at  his  watch.)  But  I  am  late.  Con- 


YOUNG    MES.    WINTHROP.  11 

stance — I — I  was  wrong  to  use  the  word  "insist,."  a  moment 
ago.     I   feel  sure  that  you  will  stay  at   home   to-night,   not 
because  I  "insist,"  but  because  it  is  my  earnest — wish.     Good 
night. 
CONS.     Good  night. 

DOUGLAS  is  moving  up  R.    CONSTANCE  stands  L,    Enter  Bux- 
TON  SCOTT  up  L.,  holding  a  huge  package  before  him. 

SCOTT.    (Ashe  enter*.)  Ah  t    How  is  the  happy  mother, — and 
the  father — to-night  ? 
^^-  CONS,  and  DOUG  !    Mr.  Scott.     (Going  to  Mm.) 

SCOTT.  Constance  !  (Kissing  her  at  one  side  of  package?) 
Douglas  !  (Looking-  out  at  other  side  of  package.)  I  haven't 
a  kiss  for  you. 

CONS.  Another  present  for  Rosie  I 
^— ^  DOUG.     From  her  godfather. 

CONS.     Let  me  help  you. 

SCOTT.  Thank  you.  (Putting  it  on  chair  i>.  c.  CONSTANCE 
begins  to  unwrap  it.)  I  brought  that  in  my  arms  all  the  way. 
I  was  the  proudest  old  bachelor  in  New  York.  I  felt  like  a 
grandfather. 

^--  DOUG.    Constance  and  I  almost  feel  that  you  are  Rosie's 
grandfather. 

CONS.     Indeed  we  do, 

SCOTT.  So  do  I.  In  fact  I  did  have  almost  as  much  to  do 
as  either  of  her  grandfathers  with  bringing  her  into  the  world. 
I  helped  along  your  courtship  as  much  as  a  blundering  old 
bachelor  could.  I  patched  up  your  lovers'  quarrels  and  made 
peace  between  you — I  think  I  may  claim  to  be  Rosie's  grand 
father.  • 

CONS.  A  beautiful  new  baby-house,  with  furniture  and 
carpets  and  mirrors,  complete. — I  must  kiss  you  again, — for 
Rosie.  (Kissing  him.) 

SCOTT.  I  shall  drop  in  to-morrow  if  I  can.  You  must  let 
me  have  Douglas  now  for  business.  I'm  his  lawyer,  you 
know,  and  we  lawyers  have  to  work  night  and  day.  (Tarns 
to  DOUGLAS  R.  c.  apart.)  I  must  speak  with  you  at  once. 

DOUG.     (Apart.)    Come  into  the  library.    (Exeunt^up  R.)     ... 

CONS.  (Pleasantly.)  I'll  not  go  to  Mrs.  Warrington's.  I'll 
go  to  bed  early  and  be  up  fresh  and  bright  with  mother  and 
Edith.  Rosie  and  I  will —  (Stops  suddenly,  her  expression  chang 
ing  suddenly  from  a  smile  to  a  look  of  pain)  What  was  that 
letter  from  Mrs.  Dunbar  to  my  husband  ?  Not  a  word  to  me 
when  he  read  it  I  (Pause,  c.)  No,  no,  no  !  I  will  not  think 
of  that.  Douglas  has  become  cold — but — I  have  never 
dreamed  of  anything  like  that.  Not — I — oh!  if  that,  too, 
should  come ! — if  that,  too,  should  come  1 — I  could  not  bear  it. 
(Dropping  into  a  chair,  R.  c.,  her  head  falling  on  her  arms.) 

Enter  Mrs.  DICK  CHETWYN,  in  full  evening  dress,  up  L. 
MRS.  DICK.    Constance,  my  dear  t 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


12  YOUNG   MRS.    WIKTHROP. 

CONS.     (Suddenly  arousing  herself.}    Ah  !  Barbara  ! 

MRS.  DICK.  (In  a  tone  of  great  anxiety.}  Something  wrong 
with  your  new  costume,  my  darling  V  Doesn't  it  fit  ? 

CONS.     (Brushing  tears  from  her  eyes.}    It  is  not  that. 

MRS.  DICK.  Oh  !  I  thought  it  was  something  serious.  Your 
new  dress  is  lovely,  and  your  hair  is  perfection.  Will  your 
husband  be  ready  soon  ?  The  men  are  always  late.  (Crosses  c.) 

CONS.  He  is  not  going  this  evening. 

MRS.  DICK.  (L.  c.)  0 — h  ! — that's  what  you're  crying  about. 
It's  a  long  time  since  I  cried  because  my  husband  wouldn't  go 
with  me  anywhere.  Dick  says  I've  changed.  He  says  I'm 
more  likely  to  cry  when  he  does  go  with  me  now.  Dick  goes 
one  way  and  I  go  the  other,  so  we're  both  of  us  perfectly 
happy.  Buxton  Scott  called  to  see  Dick  one  day.  I  happened 
to  meet  liim  in  the  hall.  "Ah!"  said  he,  "  you're  at  home  ; 
of  course  your  husband  isn't.  Good  afternoon."  Ha-ha-ha! 
We  two  widows  must  go  to  the  ball  by  ourselves,  I  suppose. 

CONS.  -Herbert  is  going.  But  didn't  you  know  ?  Mr.  Win- 
throp  is  engaged  for  a  supper  at  the  club  with  your  husband. 
(Grosses  L.,  looking  at  toys,  arranging  them,  etc.} 

MRS.  DICK.  Oh  !  is  he  ?  (Crosses  R.)  Ha-ha-ha,  I  thought 
Dick  was  lying  about  it.  He  told  me  he  was  going  to  take 
supper  with  Mr.  Winthrop  at  the  club.  After  his  telling  me 
that,  it  was  the  last  thing  I  dreamed  of  his  doing.  Poor  Dick  ! 
it's  a  shame  not  to  believe  him  when  he  does  tell  the  truth  ; 
but  I  dare  say  they  are  both  lying. 

CONS.  Oh  !  Barbara !  how  can  you  trifle  about  such  serious 
things  ? 

MRS.  E)ICK.  Well,  you  see,  my  dear,  I  know  all  about  these 
men,  and  so'll  you  by  the  time  you  have  had  two  husbands,  as 
I  have.  My  first  husband  was  a  physician  ;  my  second  is  a 
member  of  the  bar.  A  doctor  and  a  lawyer  can  teach  you 
about  all  one  woman  needs  to  know  on  the  subject  of  husbands. 
Dick  makes  up  whatever  Bob  omitted  in  my  education,  and 
when  I  iorget  anything  Bob  taught  me  Dick  reminds  me  of  it. 
Between  Bob  and  Dick  together,  I'm  a  graduate— M.  A.— Mis 
tress  of  Arts. 

CONS.  Ah  —  I  remember — your  first  husband's  name  was 
Robert. 

MRS.  DICK.  M-m.  Everybody  called  me  Mrs.  Bob  then,  just 
as  they  call  me  Mrs.  Dick  now.  I  never  could  rise  to  the  dig 
nity  of  my  husband's  full  name.  I  dare  say  next  time  I  shall 
be  Mrs.  Jack  or  Mrs.  Tom.  Yes,  my  dear,  after  you've  mar 
ried  the  second  time,  you'll  know  a  great  deal  too  much  about 
these  men  to  worry  yourself  about  'em.  If  your  dress  fits,  and 
you  haven't  got  a  headache,  no  little  matrimonial  obscurities 
will  ever  affect  your  spirits.  Keep  your  eyes  open,  my  dear, 
and  smile.  I  mean,  keep  one  eye  open  and  the  other  shut. 
When  your  husband  gets  round  on  the  blind  side  of  you,  open 
that  eye  quietly,  when  he  isn't  looking.  It's  great  fun !  Ha- 
ha-ha.  Bob  told  me  one  evening— it  was  the  night  of  an  Arion 


YOUtfG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  13 

ball — no,  that  wasn't  Bob — it  was  Dick.  Dick  said  to  me  that 
evening — yes,  it  was  Bob,  too.  It  was  four  years  ago — no — 
I  was  a  widow  then — one,  two — (Counting  on  her  fingers)— three, 
four — that  was  six  years  ago.  "  Barbara,  my  dear,"  said  Dick 
— I  mean,  said  Bob — "  I  have  an  important  engagement  with 
a  client — no — with  a  patient — to-night.'  '"  What  sort  of  a  law 
suit  is  it?"  said  I — I  would  say—"  What  disease  is  she  suffer 
ing  from?"  said  I.  Then  he  quoted  from  some  musty  old  law- 
books — no,  he  ran  over  a  lot  of  scientific  medical  terms. 
"Bob,"  said  I,  shaking  my  finger,  "  it  won't  do,  you  can't  de 
ceive  me,  Dick" — Bob — well,  it  was  one  of  'em.  A  woman 
that's  been  the  wife  of  a  doctor  and  a  lawyer  both  gets  awfully 
mixed  up  about  professional  engagements  outside  of  business 
hours.  (CONSTANCE  has  been  on  her  knees  before  doll-house 
arranging  furniture,  etc.) 

Coxs.  (Rises.)  Barbara— I— I  don't  think  I'll  go  to  the  ball 
to-night. 

MRS.  DICK.  Not  go? 

CONS.  You  know,  to-morrow  is  Rosie's  birthday.  I  wish  to 
be  as  fresh  and  as  bright  as  possible  to  enjoy  the  whole  day 
with  her.  Herbert  can  go  to  Mrs.  Warrino-ton's  with  you. 

MRS.  DICK    Well,  I've  never  had  any  children,  but — 

CONS.  If  you  had  you  would  feel  as  I  do.  Ah,  Barbara, 
Providence  has  denied  to  you  the  greatest  blessing  it  ever 
brings  to  a  woman.  Heaven  has  been  very  kind  to  me.  (Turn 
ing  to  house  and  arranging  it.)  I  shall  not  go. 

MRS.  DICK.  You'll  break  Madam  de  Battiste's  heart  if  you 
don't  appear  in  that  costume  to-night.  Mrs.  Dunbar — 

CONS.  (Looking  up  suddenly .)  Mrs.  Dunbar!  (MRS.  DICK 
stops  and  looks  at  her  inquiringly.  CONSTANCE  proceeds  quietly.} 
What  of  her? 

MRS.  DICK.  She  has  a  new  costume  just  arrived,  direct  from 
Paris.  She  is  supposed  to  be  the  finest  dressed  woman  in 
America.  But  Madam  de  Battiste  told  me  that  when  you  ap 
peared  in  the  same  drawing-room  with  her  to-night,  Mrs. 
Dunbar  and  the  Parisian  dressmakers  would  lose  their  reputa 
tion.  I  told  Madam  de  Battiste  she  might  rob  the  Parisian 
dressmakers  of  their  reputation,  but  Mrs.  Hep  worth  Dunbar  will 
never  lose  hers — again.  By  the  by,  my  dear— ha-ha-ha-ha — 
speaking  of  Mrs.  Dunbar — I'm  jealous  of  you. 

CONS.     Jealous  ?—  of  me  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  M — m.  Mrs.  Dunbar  thinks  a  great  deal  more 
of  youi  husband  than  she  does  of  mine.  (CONSTANCE  starts  to 
her  feet  and  moves  down  L.  c.  front.)  Everybody  is  talking  about 
it.  Dick  was  her  favorite  till  a  few  weeks  ago,  you  know ;  but 
his  nose  was  put  out  of  joint  the  moment  Douglas  appeared  as 
a  rival.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  We're  all  laughing  at  Dick.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  !  I  had  such  a  joke  on  him  last  evening.  He  told  me 
he  was  going  to  drop  in  and  see  Mrs.  Dunbar.  I  remarked  that 
I  expected  a  gentleman  to  call  on  me,  and  he  departed  with  my 
blessing.  Ha-ha-ha-ha.  He  was  back  in  twenty  minutes. 


14  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP, 

•"  Wasn't  she  in?"  said  L  "  Yes,"  said  he,  •"  she  was,  but  .just 
as  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps  Douglas  Winthrop  was  enter 
ing  the  door.  I  thought  I  might  be  intruding.  That's 
the  second  time  this  week.  When  I  called  on  Tuesday  I  found 
Winthrop  in  the  parlor."  Ha-ha-ha-ha.  Your  husband 
has  cut  mine  out.  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  him,  my  dear. 
The  gentleman  that  was  to  call  upon  me— didn't.  Dick  and  I 
spent  the  whole  evening  together.  It  wasn't  so  very  bad 
either.  -It  seemed  novel  to  as,  you  know — we  found  each  other 
quite  interesting. 

CONS.  (With  suppressed  feeling,  L.)  You  are  quite  sure  that 
Mrs.  Dunbar  will  be  at  Mrs.  Warrington's  this  evening. 

MRS.  DICK.  Sure  of  it.  She  ordered  her  costume  by  cable 
especially  for  this  occasion. 

CONS.  (Aside.}  If  she  and  I  should  come  face  to  face  to-night 
we  would  understand  each  other,  without  a  word.  (Aloud 
suddenly.)  I  will  go  to  Mrs.  Warrington's.  (Enter  HERBERT  up 
R.)  Oh  1  Herbert,  you  are  ready.  Mrs.  Chetwyn  is  going  with 
us.  (Gathering  cloak,  fan,  etc.,  with  nervous  movement  and 
speaking  rapidly.)  We  will  send  back  your  carriage,  Barbara. 
Mine  has  been  waiting  this  half  hour.  Come.  (Exit  quickly 
and  nervously  up  L.  MRS.  DICK  is  following  her,  also  HERBERT, 
who  is  pulling  at  his  back  collar-button,  working  at  his  wrist 
bands,  etc. ,  and  looking  generally  uncomfortable.) 

MRS.  DICK.    (Stopping  and  looking  back  at  HERBERT.)    Her- 

HEn.     Mrs.  Dick. 

MRS.  DICK.  I  know  your  secret.[\  You're  in  love.  Come 
here.  (Beckoning  to  him.  He  approaches  her.  She  spiffs  the 
'air.)  Benzine.  Give  me  your  hand.  (He  looks  at  her  in  some 
surprise  ;  then  holds  out  his  hand.  She  puts  it  daintily  to  her 
nose.)  Economy — you're  very  much  in  love — mended  all  over 
— one  place  with  Mack  thread, 

HER.  I  did  that  myself  just  now — Aunt  Ruth  and  Edith 
were  both  busy. 

MRS.  DICK.     Is  Edith  busy  now  ? 

HER.    No. 

MRS.  DICK.     You  needn't  go  with  us. 
ER.     (Eagerly.)    I  needn't? 

RS.  DICK.  You  follow  us.  I'll  leave  my  carriage  at  the 
•  for  you.  We'll  give  you  ten  minutes  to  make  love.  We'll 
wait  for  you  in  the  cloak-room.  By-bye — (going — stops)  Ha- 
ha-ha — I  saw  it  coming  on  you  three  months  ago.  I'm  familiar 
with  the  symptoms.  I've  seen  lots  of  men  in  love.  I  married 
two  of  'em.  {Exit  up  L.) 

HER.  Mrs.  Dick  :s  a  nice  woman.  (Looks  out  R.)  Edith  is 
coming.  She  has  just  left  little  Rosie.  I  wish  she  was  half  as 
fond  of  me  as  she  is  of  Rosie. 

^ — JSnter  EDITH  R.  1.  E.    HERBERT  stands  down  L.  beyond  table, 
looking  up  at  her.    She  touches  the  doorway  lightly,  feeling 


YOUNG   MBS.    WINTHROP.  15 

her  way ;  then  moving  up  R.  c.  until  her  hand  rests  upon 
the  back  of  a  chair. 

EDITH.  (To  herself.}  I  thought  the  little  thing  never  would 
go  to  sleep  to-night.  Ha-ha-ha— (laughing  lightly.)  She  is 
so  excited  about  her  birthday.  Now  I  can  finish  her  present. 
(She  crosses,  touching  another  chair  lightly  on  the  way  and  moves 
to  table  L.  c.,  taking  up  a  little  lace  bed-spread.) 

HER.  (As  she  is  crossing.)  She  is  smiling.  Edith  is  always 
happy. 

EDITH.    (Standing  at  right  of  table  and  facing  HERBERT  and 
'ng.)     I  wonder  what  Herbert  is  doing  now  ? 
ER.     (Aside.)     What  pretty  eyes  she  has  ! 

EDITH.     I  always  feel  a  little  lonely  when  Herbert  is  away. 

HER.     (Aside.)    I  wonder  what  she  is  thinking  about. 

EDITH.  (Listening  suddenly  and  smiling.)  There's  someone 
here.  (Laughing  lightly  and  holding  out  her  hand. )  Let  me 
guess.  (HERBERT  reaches  forward  his  hand  and  touches  the 
bach  of  her  hand  gently  with  one  finger.)  Herbert ! — (pleased) — I 
thought  you  had  gone  to  the  ball. 

HER.  How  do  you  always  know  when  I  touch  your  hand, 
Edith  ? 

EDITH.     Something  tells  me,  Herbert. 

HER.     Something  tells  you  ? 

EDITH.  I  seem  to  feel  that  it  is  you.  Your  touch  is 
always  so  different  from  the  others.  It  seems  so — so  gen 
tle — and  so — 

HER.     So — tender — and — and — loving? 

EDITH.     Yes,  Herbert. 

HER.     I  do  love  you,  Edith. 

EDITH.  I'm  glad  of  that,  Herbert.  I  like  to  have  you  all 
love  me. 

HER.  Yes — of  course,  but — the  others  you  know — we  all 
love  you — certainly — but  the  rest  of  them — it's  different  with 
me.  (A  slight  pause  as  if  waiting  for  her  to  speak.)  The  rest  of 
them— except  Douglas,  they're  women,  you  know — and  little 
Rosie. 

EDITH.     Well,  can't  they  love  me  just  as  well  as  you  ? 

HER.  Yes — they — of  course  they  can  love  you  as  well  as  I 
—  but — my  love  is  a  different  kind  of  love  from  theirs. 

EDITH.  What  do  you  mean— different— Herbert  ?  (She  sits 
L.  c.) 

-  HER.  (Aside.)  It's  no  use.  I  can't  make  love  to  her. 
(Aloud.)  Ask  Aunt  Ruth  what  the  difference  is,  Edith.  Is  that 
a  present  for  Rosie  ? 

EDITH.  Yes.  (Breaking  tJiread,  etc.)  It  is  just  finished.  A 
little  lace  spread  for  the  doll's  bedstead  her  papa  bought. 

HER.  It  is  very  pretty.  I  am  going  to  take  a  holiday  to 
morrow,  and  spend  the  whole  day  with  you  and  Rosie. 

EDITH.     Oh  !  I'm  so  glad.     You  are  very  fond  of  Rosie. 

HER.     Yes,  I'm  very  fond,  indeed,  of — Rosie. 

EDITH.     You  spend  all  the  time  you  can  with  her  and  me. 


16  YOUHG   MRS.    WIKTHROP. 

•n  HER.     Yes— with  her — and — and — you. 

EDITH.  What  long  soft  hair  Rosie  has — and  her  face  is  as 
smooth  as  a  peach,  and  it's  as  sweet  too.  She  is  beautiful. 

HER.     You  see  so  many  beautiful  things,  Edith !    You  never 
fish  that  you  could  see  with  your  eyes,  do  you  ? 

EDITH.  Why  should  I  ?  No,  indeed  !  I  am  always  happy 
like  everybody  else  in  the  world.  I  sometimes  dream,  Her 
bert  that  there  are  people  who  are  not  happy.  I  dream  that 
people  are  sometimes  unkind  to  each  other.  Of  course,  I  know 
it  is  only  a  dream  ;  for  when  I  wake  up  everybody  is  so  gentle 
and  good,  and  so  happy  ;  but  something  whispers  to  me  it  is 
better  to  be  as  I  am.  I  do  not  wish  to  see. 

HER.     We  all  have  eyes  for  you,  Edith  ;  even  little  Rosie— 

EDITH.     Oh  !  Rosie's  eyes  are  mine.     She  leads  me  about 
everywhere  and  tells  me  of  everything,  all  day  lonpr. 
.  HER.     I  wish  I  could  lead  you  around  everywhere,  as  Rosie 
does.     (Crosses  c.) 

EDITH.     You  are  not  always  with  me.          x 

HER.     I  would  like  to  be  with  you  always.^ 


EDITH.     Would  you,  Herbert  ? 
HER,     I 
some  day. 


HER.    Edith— I — I  hope  to  have  a  little  home  of  my  own 


EDITH.  A  home  of  your  own?  Do  you  mean — you — you 
will  go  away  from  here  ? 

HER.     Why— yes — I — I— I  hope  to  have— a — wife. 

EDITH.  Wife  !  Oh  !  Herbert !  ( With  warm  feeling  putting 
her  arms  about  his  neck.}  You  must  never  leave  us. 

HER.     Leave  you  ?  no — I — I  don't  want  to  leave  you. 

EDITH.  Oh — can  Rosie  and  I  go  with  you  to  your  little 
home  ?  (Sitting  L.  c.) 

—  HER.  Well — you — of  course,  if — if  Rosie — but — you — see — 
when  a  young  man  gets  married — I — I  love  Rosie  very  much — 
but — you — she — we — you'd  better  ask  Aunt  Ruth  about  that, 
too,  Edith. \ I  must  go  now.  Good  nijfht. 

EDITH.  'Good  night,  Herbert.  (Reaching  up  her  face  for 
him  to  kiss  her.  He  leans  down,  about^  to  kiss  her  lips ;  lie 
hesitates,  then  raises  her  hand  and  kisses  it  gently.) 

HER.     Good  night.     (Exit  dLL.) 

EDITH.  (Aside)  Herbert  wffi  never  be  lonely  in  his  little 
home  with  so  many  of  us  ;  but  I — I — I  wish  that  other  one 
wouldn't  be  there. 

(Enter  Mrs.  RUTH  R.  1.  E.  and  crosses  to  EDITH.)  It  is  long 
after  bed-time,  my  darlin  or.  If  Rosie  should  wake  up  she  would 
miss  you.  You  have  finished  the  spread,  I  see.  (Taking  spread 
from  EDITH,  who  sits  in  deep  thought.)  It  is  very  nicely  done, 
my  dear. 

EDITH.     Mother  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.     Edith. 

EDITH.  What — different  kinds— (rising) — of  love— are  there  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.  Different  kinds  of  love  ?  There  are  many 
kinds,  my  pet  :  a  mother's  love  ;  a  father's,  or  a  sister's,  or 


YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  17 

brother's,  or  a  friend's.  Then  there's  another  love,  Editli — the 
love  that  two  good  people  have  for  each  other  when  they  are 
married. 

EDITH.  Do  two  people  always  get  married  when  they  love 
each  other  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.     Not  always.     They  generally  do. 

EDITH.     Why  ? 

MBS.  RUTH.  They  feel  lonely.  They  want  to  be  together 
— to  comfort  and  to  take  care  of  each  other.  But  you  mustn't 
sit  up  any  longer.  (Walking  with  her  R.)  I'll  come  to  you 
as  soon  as  I  arrange  the  little  bedstead.  (EDITH  goes  out 
R.  1.  E.)  I  have  given  the  little  pet  her  first  lesson  in  love. 
(Looking  after  her.}  That's  quite  enough  for  the  present,  I 
think.  (Turning  and  crossing  up  L.)  Herbert  does  need  a 
little  help.  (Kneeling  at  a  toy  bedstead,  arranging  spread,  etc. 
EDITH  is  heard  calling  "Mother"  without.  MRS.  RUTH  starts 
up.  Re-enter  EDITH.) 

EDITH.  Mother  !  oh  !  mother !  (Rushing  across  stage  ex 
citedly.} 

HITS.  RUTH.     (Intercepting  her  L.  c.)    My  child. 

EDITH.  Rosie  !  Rosie  !  She  is  not  asleep — nor  awake — she 
is  struggling — and — 

MRS.  RUTH.  Calm  yourself,  my  child.  Rosie  is  dreaming, 
perhaps.  She  lias  been  so  excited  all  day. 

EDITH.     She  is  so  cold  and  she  breathes  so  hard. 

MRS.  RUTH.    Come,  Editli.    (She  goes  out  with  EDITH  R.  1.  E.) 

Enter  BUXTON.  SCOTT  and  DOUGLAS^J/J^R. 

SCOTT.  (As  he  enters  and  pastes  across  L.)  That's  the  only 
obstacle  in  our  way  now,  DOUGLAS.  The  directors  of  the  bank 
are  willing  to  settle  it. 

-'DouG.     (Crossing  down  to  table  L.  c.)    I'll  do  all  I  can  in  the 
matter. 

SCOTT.  See  you  in  the  morning.  (Waving  his  hand.) 
^-  DOUG.  (Waving  his  hand.)  At  nine.  (Exit  SCOTT  up  L. 
DOUGLAS  takes  note  from  his  pocket.)  What  hour  did  she  say  ? 
(Reads.)  "Anytime  before  eleven."  I  must  send  a  line  to 
CHETWYN  (icrites),  and  tell  him  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
join  him  at  supper  this  evening.  (Strikes  bell.  Enter  MAID 
up  L.  DOUGLAS  encloses  note  in  envelope,  directs  it,  and  rises. 
Goes  up  and  hands  note  to  MAID.)  Tell  Morgan  to  take  this 
to  the  Union  Club — immediately.  (Exit  MAID.  He  looks  at 
his  watch.)  Now  for  Mrs.  Dunbar's.  (Exit  up  L.) 

CURTAIN. 


18  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 


ACT   SECOND. 

SCENE—  The  Same.  Night.  A  single  lamp  or  drop-light 
upon  table.  At  rise  of  curtain  enter  DOUGLAS  up  L.,  in 
some  haste,  and  with  expression  of  anxiety.  He  is  still  in 
evening  dress  and  has  his  overcoat  on  his  arm  and  hat  in 
hand,  as  if  having  entered  too  hastily  to  throw  them  aside. 
He  tosses  them  on  chair  as  lie  proceeds.  He  is  followed  by 
MAID. 
.— DOUG.  (As  he  crosses  c.)  Eleven  o'clock,  you  say  ? 

MAID.     Yes,  sir.     Miss  Rosie  was  taken  ill  about  the  time 
you  left  the  house,  sir. 
^  DOUG.     Did  Dr.  Mellbanke  come  promptly  V 

MAID.     Yes,  sir.     And  he  is  still  here. 

DOUG.  Still  here  !  (Looks  at  his  watch.)  Two  o'clock.  Dr. 
Mellbanke  still  here.  It  must  be  serious.  (Going  quickly 
down  R.  DR.  MELLBANKE  steps  in  R.  1  E.,  raising  his  hand 
to  check  him.}  The  child,  Doctor  ! — Rosie  ! 

DOCTOR.    •  She  is  sleeping. 

DOUG.     Is  there  danger  ? 

DOCTOR.     I  hope  for  the  best. 

DOUG.  Ah  !  (  With  a  sigh  of  relief,  walking  L.)  What  is  it, 
Doctor  ?  (The  MAID  goes  out,  icitli  coat  and  hat.) 

DOCTOR.     Just  such  an  attack  as  she  had  two  years  ago. 

DOUG.     She  recovered  from  that  in  a  few  days. 

DOCTOR.     I  trust  she  will  do  the  same  in  this  case. 

DOUG.     Has  she  suffered  much  ? 

DOCTOR.     She  is  now  entirely  free  from  pain. 

DOUG.     Can  I  go  to  the  room,  Doctor  ? 

DOCTOR.  !She  is  in  a  quiet  sleep.  We  must  take  every  ad 
vantage  of  it. 

DOUG.     I  might  relieve  her  mother. 

DOCTOR.     The  child's  grandmother  is  with  her. 

DOUG.     Ah — Constance  is  resting. 

DOCTOR.     Mrs.  Winthrop,  herself,  has  not  returned  yet. 
^.DouG.     Not— returned  ? 
.x^  DOCTOR.     She  is  at  Mrs. — Warrington's — I  believe. 

DOUG.     (With  a  slight  start.)    At  Mrs.  Warrington's? 

DOCTOR.  Up  to  half  an  hour  ago  I  thought  the  case  a  very 
harmless  one,  and  I  advised  them  not  to  send  for  Mrs. 
Winthrop.  But  it  took  a  more  serious  turn,  and  we  sent  for 
her.  She  has  not  arrived  yet. 

DOUG.    (Aside.)    Constance.fft'd!  go  ! 

.^  DOCTOR.  I  thought  it  was  she  that  entered,  when  I  heard 
you  at  the  door.  I  came  down  stairs  to  ask  her  not  to  go  to 
the  child  at  present.  Mrs.  Winthrop  will  be  somewhat  e\- 


YOUNG   MRS.    WIKTHROP.  19 

cited  of  course — returning  from  a — a  social  festivity — under 
such — such  unusual  circumstances. 

.-DOUG.  Yes.  (With  some  bitterness  in  his  tone.)  From  a 
fashionable  ball-room  to  the  bedside  of  a  sick  child  is  an  ab 
rupt  change — for  a  mother. 

DOCTOR.  Will  you  kindly  say  to  Mrs.  Winthrop,  for  me, 
when  she  arrives,  that  the  little  one  is  sleeping  and  the  utmost 
quiet  is  necessary.  Her  grandmother  is  taking  every  care  of 
her.  If  Mrs.  Winthrop  will,  for  the  present,  kindly  refrain 
from  coming  to  the  room — 

DOUG.     I  will  tell  her. 

DOCTOR.     It  will  be  better  for  the  child.     (Exit  R.  1  E.) 

DOUG.  Better  for  the  child ! — that  its  mother  should  not 
enter  it's  sick-room  in  a  rustling  silk  and  a  dragging  train — 
fresh  from  the  glare  of  a  ball-room. 

Enter  MRS.  RUTH  R.  1  E. 

MRS.  RUTH.     (R.  c.)     Douglas. 

DOUG.     (R.  c.)    Mother.     Rosie  is  still  sleeping? 

MRS.  RUTH.  Yes,  gently,  and  without  pain.  The  Doctor  is 
with  her  now.  I  am  glad  the  servant  found  you,  Douglas.  We 
sent  to  the  club  for  you,  at  first. 

DOUG.  I  was  not  there.  How — how  did  you  know  where  I 
was,  mother  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.  I  happened  to  overhear  you  say  to  Mr.  Scott 
that  you  woul  1  go  to — to  a  Mrs. — a  Mrs.  Dunbar's. 

DOUG.     Ah  !  yes,  I  see. 

MRS.  RUTH.  When,  the  servant  returned  and  said  you  were 
not  at  the  club,  I  thought  you  might  be  at  that  lady's  house, 
so  Dr.  Mellbanke  sent  there  for  you. 

DOUG.  Mother — I — I  have  a — a  favor  to  ask  of  you.  Say 
nothing  to  Constance  about  my  having  been  at  Mrs.  Dunbar's 
to-night. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Say — nothing — to — Constance  !    My  son  ! 

DOUG.     Do  not  misunderstand  me,  mother. 

MRS.  RUTH.  No,  Douglas  !— of  course  not.  I  heard  Mr. 
Scott  tell  you  that  it  was  positively  necessary  for  you  to  go 
to  Mrs.  Dunbar's — some  business  matter. 

-  DOUG.  Yes,  mother,  it  was,  and  the  cause  of  my  going 
would  bring  deep  pain  to  Constance,  something,  indeed,  harder 
to  bear  than  mere  pain. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Nothing  can  be  so  important,  Douglas,  as  per 
fect  confidence  between  husband  and  wife. 

DOUG.  Mother,  please  do  not  say  anything  on  this  subject 
to  her. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Well,  I — I  promise  you.  I  would  not  have 
mentioned  it  any  way.  Constance  should  have  returned  by 
this  time. 

<"  DOUG.  It  is  too  early,  yet,  to  leave  the  most  brilliant  re- 
ception  of  the  season. 


20  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Early  ? — with  such  a  message  ?  What  do  you 
mean,  Douglas? 

Enter  MAID  up  L. 

MAID.     Thomas  is  returned,  madam. 

MRS.  RUTH.     And  Mrs.  Winthrop  ? 

MAID.  Mrs.  Winthrop  had  left  the  house  before  Thomas 
got  there,  madam. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Ah.     She  has  taken  Mrs.  Chetwyn  home. 

(Exit  MAID.) 

.xDouG.     They   are    discussing  the   merits  of   the  last  new 
costumes.     (Sitting  L.  c.) 

MRS.  RUTH.  Douglas,  I — I  never  heard  you  speak  of  your 
wife  in  a  bitter  tone. 

^  DOUG.  My — wife — went  to  a  "  fashionable  "  woman's  house, 
to-night,  against  the  earnestly  expressed  desire  of  her  hus 
band.  She  is  now  away  from  her  sick  child.  The  physician 
has  just  requested  me  to  ask  her  not  to  go  to  its  bedside  when 
she  returns.  I  am  a  husband  and  a  father  !  Do  you  wonder 
at  my  bitter  tone  ? 

MRS.  RUTH.     (After  a  moment's  pause?)    Douglas — my  son. 

DOUG.  Mother.  (She  crosses  to  him  and  stands  at  his  chair, 
looking  down  at  him.} 

MRS.  RUTH.     May  I  speak  frankly  to  you  ? 
^DOUG.     Need  you  ask  me  that? 

MRS.  RUTH.  Even  a  mother  fears  to  touch  upon  some  sub 
jects.  I  have  long  wished  to  say  what  is  in  my  heart,  but  I — 
I  have  hesitated. 

DOUG.  It  must  be  good  for  me  to  know  all  there  is  in  such 
a  heart  as  yours.  (Taking  her  hand.}  Through  childhood 
and  manhood  I  have  never  found  anything  but  love  there. 

MRS.  RUTH.     My  darling  boy  ! 

DOUG.  I  am  a  boy  again,  mother.  Speak  to  me — just  as 
you  used  to.  (He  has  placed  her  in  the  chair  and  is  sitting  on 
a,  stool  beside  her.} 

Mas.  RUTH.  I — I  feel  to-night,  Douglas,  that  a  crisis  may 
be  at  hand,  in  the  life  of  the  two  beings  most  dear  to  me  in  all 
the  world.  You  are  my  only  child — no  ! — my  only  son — for  she 
too  is  my  child — my  daughter.  I  have  known  Constance  since 
she  was  a  little  girl.  I  know  how  pure — how  full  of  tender 
ness  and  love — her  nature  is.  You  were  very  happy — at  first. 

DOUG.     Very — at  first. 

MRS.  RUTH.  There  was  contentment  and  love  in  your 
home.  A  change  has  been  gradually  stealing  over  you  both. 

DOUG. — Yes,  mother  !— a  change. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Constance  has  become  more  and  more  what  is 
called  a  "  fashionable"  woman. 
,  DOUG.     Yes. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Her  child  and  her  husband  do  not,  now,  re 
ceive  all  her  attention,  as  they  once  did. 

DOUG.    No. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Her  home  has  become  less  and  less  the  centre 
-of  her  thoughts. 


YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  21 

V-  DOUG.    My  dear  mother  !  —  Speak  to  Constance.     A  single 
vord  from  you  — 

MRS.  RUTH.     No  —  my  son  —  it  is  to  you  that  I  will  speak  ! 
DOUG.     To—  mo? 

MRS.  RUTH.     It  is  your  fault,  Douglas,  not  hers.     If  such 
a  woman  as  Constance  is  not  the  wife  and  mother  she  should 
be,  it  is  her  husband's  fault. 
.  DOUG.     My  —  fault  !     (Rising  and  crossing  c.) 

MRS.  RUTH.  (After  a  slight  pause,  assuming  a  lighter  tone.} 
You  did  not  dine  at  home  this  evening,  Douglas.  You  dropped 
in  at  Delmonico'8  with  a  friend,  you  told  me. 
•  DOUG.  (After  looking  up  at  her  as  if  a  little  puzzled  at  the 
change  of  subject,  .)  Yes!  —  we  had  a  matter  of  business  to  talk 
over. 

MRS.  RUTH.      You   were  absent  from  home  all  yesterday 
evenin. 

A 


MRS.  RUTH.     You  had  a  gentleman's  dinner-party  here  on 
Tuesday  evening. 

DOUG.     Some  capitalists  to  meet  the  president  of  a  western 


MRS.  RUTH.     You  —  you  never  return  to  your  home  in  the 

daytime. 
.-—DOUG.     Business  men  never  do  that.    (Grosses  R.  c.)    We 

lunch  down-town,  of  course. 

Mi;s    IJijTii      <•>£  pourse      On  Mominv  ^vpnifr<* 

t^HKi.-  -1  iMMa»»Efer  .ielplirn,  Mondny    afternoon  —  a 

MRS.  RUTH.  (Rises  and  crosses  to  him.}  I  have  now  been 
here  two  months,  Douglas.  Your  wife  never  sees  you  in  the 
daytime,  except  on  Sunday  ;  and  only  three  times  since  I  came 
have  you  spent  an  evening-  quietly  at  home  with  her. 

DOUG.  The  constant  pressure  upon  the  time  of  a  business 
man  — 

MRS.  RUTH.  Your  father  was  a  business  man,  Douglas!  a 
successful  one,  too.  He  left  you  a  large  fortune,  but  he  made 
me  a  very  happy  wife.  lie  never  forgot  that  his  wife  and 
child  were  more  to  him  than  all  the  triumphs  of  his  business 
Mfe.  Remember  your  own  childhood.  Remember  the  many 
happy  hours  your  father  spent  with  you  and  me  in  our  home. 
The  trials  of  his  daily  work  never  made  those  hours  less  bright. 
Even  your  father's  successes  in  business  did  not  conflict  with 
our  domestic  happiness. 

Those  times  were  different,  mother. 

MRS.  RUTH.  No,  my  son  !  Domestic  love  in  those  days 
withered  and  died  in  the  same  hot  fever  as  now.  You  have 
caught  the  disease  and  your  father  escaped  it  —  that  is  all.  Be 
lieve  me,  there  are  as  many  men  to-day  as  then,  rich  and  suc 
cessful  men,  who  do  not  neglect  their  families  for  the  sake  of 
making  "money"  —  who  do  not  sacrifice  their  wives  and  their 
children  and  all  their  own  holiest  affections  — 


22  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 


Sacrifice  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.     Yes,  Douglas,  sacrifice  !  — 
Surely  you  do  not  think  that  I  — 

MRS.  RUTH.  That  is  what  you  are  doing,  my  son.  Your 
wife  has  become  almost  a  stranger  to  you.  Her  heart  is  slowly 
starving  for  want  of  your  love.  She  is  turning  in  her  loneli 
ness  to  the  excitements  of  fashionable  life.  What  effect  must 
this  daily  separation  have  upon  a  woman  like  Constance  ? 
(Goes  up  c.)  You  have  given  her  a  magnificent  house  to  live 
in,  but  you've  given  her  no  home. 
^DouG.  Mother  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.     For  months  you  and  sue  have  been  growing 
colder  to  each  other  every  day. 
^-DouG.     Colder  and  colder—  yes. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Now  —    (She  hesitates.) 

DOUG.     Now—  well? 

MRS.  RUTH.     Your  child  alone  holds  you  together. 
OUG.     Our  child  !     If  she  were  to  be  taken  away  —  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.  Then,  Douglas,  the  holy  grief  of  a  father  and 
mother  would  bring  you  and  Constance  together.  If  that 
great  sorrow  were  ever  to  come  upon  you,  it  would  bring  its 
compensation.  Two  hearts  never  know  all  there  is  of  love 
until  they  have  suffered  together. 

DOUG.  "  (After  a  pause,  and  holding  her  hand  in  loth  his  o>en.) 
This  same  kind  hand  that  led  me  when  I  was  a  boy  shall  lead 
me  now,  mother.  (Rising.}  I  have  been  cruel  to  Constance. 
She  shall  not  be  without  a  home  hereafter.  I  will  be  her  com 
panion  —  her  husband  !  As  soon  as  she  returns  I  will  confess 
the  wrong  I  have  done  her.  Our  love  shall  have  a  new  and  a 
stronger  life  than  ever  —  from  this  night. 

MRS.  RUTH.  When  you  speak  like  that  I  seem  to  hear  your 
father's  own  voice. 

DOUG.  (Walking  R.  icith  her,  hit  arm  about  her  waist.)  I 
will  try  to  honor  his  memory  by  making  Constance  as  happy 
a  wife  as  he  made  you.  We  shall  both  bless  you  for  it, 
mother  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.    My  boy  !    (Reaching  up  her  face.    He  kisses  her 

Exit  MRS.  RUTH,  R.  1  E. 

-DouG.  (Looking  after  her.)  "Her  children  arise  up  and 
call  her  blessed."  (Exit  after  her,  R.  1  E.  A  moment's  pause 
the  stage  empty.  )  ~  -  ~i  "-^ 

Enter  CONSTANCE,  up  L. 

CONS.  Back  again!  (With  a  weary  air,  throwing  aside  her 
cloak.)  How  quiet  the  house  is  !  It's  no  use  going  to  bed  ;  I 
cannot  sleep.  (Dropping  into  chair  before  fire,  B.)  I  wish 
these  "  social  gayeties,"  as  they  call  them,  could  go  on  forever. 
No  matter  how  much  I  go  out,  or  ho\v  bright  the  company  is, 
it  always  ends  in  this;  I  am  alone  again,  and  I  —  I  can't 
stop  thinking.  Oh  !—  I  wish  I  could  —  1  wish  I  could  I  (Looks 
into  fire.)  Mr.  Chetwyn  was  at  the  reception  this  evening: 


YOUNG   MRS.    WIKTHROP.  23 

Douglas  sent  him  word  lie  could  not  meet  him  at  the  club. 
He  sent  the  message  after  receiving  that  note  from  Mrs.  Dun- 
bar—  she  was  not  there  to-night  !  Oh ! — why  must  I  keep 
thinking— thinking?  (Starting  to  lier  feet  and  moving  c., 
pauses.)  Perhaps  I  am  wronging  him.  Yes.  No — no  ! — I 
will  not  believe  it— I  have  not  lost  his  love  !  There  is  some 
thing  I  do  not  understand.  I  will  speak  to  Douglas  about  it 
in  the  morning.  (Smiling.)  It  will  all  come  right.  I  must 
get  to  sleep  as  soon  as  I  can,  to  be  up  bright  and  early  with 
Rosie.  I  will  peep  in  at  my  little  darling  before  I  go  to  sleep. 

(Going  toward  door,  R.  1  E.) 

Enter  EDITH,  R.  1  E.  ;  also  HERBERT,  up  L.          /         •  * 

CONS.    Edith! 

EDITH.     Oh,  Constance  !  you  have  come  back. 

CONS.     Why  are  you  up  at  this  hour? 

EDITH.  I  couldn't  sleep.  They  told  me  to  go  to  my  room. 
But  I  was  so  unhappy  about  Rosie — 

CONS.    Rosie ! 

EDITH.     Oh ! — you  do  not  know  ? 

CONS.     Know  what,  Edith — I  do  not  know  what  ? 

EDITH.     The  servant  was  sent  to  tell  you — he — 

CONS.  Ah  !  (A  half -suppressed  scream.)  Rosie  ! — Rosie  ! 
She  is  not  well !  (She  hurries  past  EDITH  and  out  R.  1  E. 
under  great  excitement.} 

-<i-^— —    HER.     (Joining  EDITH  up  R.  c.)     The  servant  must  have 
missed  us,  Edith.     What  is  it? 

EDITH.  Rosie  is  ill.  The  doctor  is  here.  They  sent  me 
away. 

Re-enter  MRS.  RUTH  with  CONSTANCE,  R.  1  E.  MRS.  RUTH  is 
leading  her  in,  holding  one  of  CONSTANCE'S  hands,  and  her 
arm  about  her  waist.  CONSTANCE  is  under  great  emotion. 

MRS.  RUTH.  You  must  calm  yourself,  my  dear  child.  You 
must  calm  yourself!  Dr.  Mellbanke  is  right. 

CONS.     Yes — I  know — I  know.     (Moving  up  L.  c.) 

MRS.  RUTH,  (c.)  You  shall  go  to  her,  presently.  But  she 
is  sleeping  very  quietly.  The  slightest  noise  might — 

CONS.  The  doctor  is  right— he  is  right.  I  am  excited  !  I 
have  just  returned  from  where  people  are  dancing  and 
laughing.  I  would  endanger  the  life  of  my  child  !  (Sink 
ing  into  cJiair  at  table,  R.  c.)  My  own  child  !  Douglas — 
my  husband  !  ask  him  to  come  to  me,  mother  ;  ask  him  to 
come  to  me. 

MRS.  RUTH.     I  will — I  will. 

CONS.  Tell  Douglas  I  want  him  near  me — I  want  his  arm 
about  me,  mother. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Whatever  happens,  trust  to  his  love.  It  will 
always  support  and  comfort  you! — my  daughter!  (Kissing 
her ;  she  then  turns  to  HERBERT,  c.,  speaking  apart.)  Her 
bert,  Dr.  Mellbanke  wishes  you  to  go  for  Dr.  Holden — at  once. 


24  YOUNG   MRS.    WLNTHROP. 

HER.     (Apart.)    A  consultation  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.  H-s-h.  (Her  finger  to  her  lips.)  Dr.  Mell- 
banke  wishes  to  advise  with  him.  (HERBERT  turns  up  stage 
and  exit  L.  MRS.  RUTH  crosses  R.)  I  will  speak  to  Douglas, 
Constance  (Exit  R.  I  E.) 

CONS.  (Taking  off  her  jewels,  etc.,  nervously ,  and  dropping 
them  on  the  table  before  her.)  Oh,  how  I  hate  them!  How  I 
hate  them  !  Why  did  I  go  to-night?  My  husband!— I  never 
longed  for  your  love  as  I  do  now. 

(EDITH  makes  her  way  across  to  CONSTANCE.) 

EDITH.     Constance.     (Laying  her  hand  on  her  shoulder.) 

CONS.    Edith — sister  ! 

EDITH.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  back.  Rosie  was  talking 
to  me  about  you  before  she  fell  asleep. 

CONS.  You  have  been  where  /  should  have  been  to-night. 
(Taking  EDITH'S  hand  and  kissing  it.  EDITH  starts  slightly  and 
puts  her  other  hand  to  CONSTANCE'S  cheek. )  What  did  Rosie 
say,  Edith  ? 

EDITH.  You  are  crying,  Constance.  (Sinking  to  her  knees 
beside  her,  with  her  arms  about  her.)  Don't  cry.  The  last 
word  Rosie  said,  before  she  fell  asleep,  was — "  Mamma."  She 
loves  you  very  mucb.  She  often,  often  tells  me  so.  Don't 
cry,  Constance. 

CONS.     Did  her  papa  come  home  before  she  went  to  sleep? 

EDITH.  No.  Mother  sent  to  the  club  for  him,  at  first,  but 
he  was  not  there.  It  took  a  long  time  to  send  to  the  other 
place,  and  Rosie  was  asleep  when  he  came. 

CONS.     The — the  other  place  ; — where  ? 

EDITH.     To — to  some  lady's  house 

CONS.     Some — some  lady's — house? 

EDITH.  I  forget  the  name — but  you  would  know— Mrs. — 
Mrs. —  Dun —  Dun — 

CONS.     Dunbar  ! 

EDITH.     Yes — that's  the  name. 

CONS.  Mother — sent — to  see  if — if  Douglas  was  at — at  Mrs. 
Dunbar's  ? 

EDITH.  Yes.  Fortunately  he  was  there.  I'm  so  glad  you 
have  both  come  back.  It  seems  as  if  you  ought  to  be  together 
to-night.  Don't  cry,  Constance.  (Reaching  up  with  her  arms 
about  CONSTANCE'S  neck,  as  the  latter  sits  rigidly  looking  airay.) 
Rosie  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you  when  she  wakes  up.  The 
Doctor  says  she  will  soon  get  well.  (Her  voice  breaking  as  she 
speaks,  and  finally  dropping  her  head  into  CONSTANCE'S  lap, 
weeping.)  Don't  cry. 

CONS.  You  must  go  to  bed,  Edith,  at  once.  (Rising  with 
arm  about  EDITH  and  leading  her  up  n.,  almost  choking  as 
she  speaks,  but  controlling  herself  by  an  effort.)  It  is  after  two 
o'clock. 

EDITH.  Oh,  I  cannot  sleep,  Constance — I  cannot  sleep.  Do 
not  send  me  away. 

CONS.    You— you  must  go  to  your  room,  Edith. 


YOUNG   MRS.    WIXTHROP.  25 

EDITH.     If  you  wish  it,  Constance. 

CONS.     Yes  ;  good  night. 

EDITH.     Good  night.     (Kissing  eacli  other.     Exit  EDITH  up 

R.  CONSTANCE  moves  down  and  across  L  ;  supports  herself 
by  a  chair  L.  c.) 

CONS.  I  —  I  cannot  breathe  —  I  —  it  is  growing  dark  !  —  I  — 
Douglas  —  my  husband  !—  my  heart  is  breaking  \  (Burying  her 
face  in  her  hands.) 

DOUGLAS  R.  1  E. 


"DouG.  Constance  —  (Sees  her  emotion  and  crosses  to  her  rap 
idly.}  My  dear  Constance  !  You  are  unstrung  by  this  sudden 
news.  You  are  nervous.  Be  seated.  (She  drops  into  the 
chair.}  Command  yourself,  my  darling. 

CONS.  'Yes,—  (drawing  up  rigidly)—  I  —  I  will  command  my 
self. 

Let  us  hope  for  the  best.  Dr.  Mellbanke  says  that 
Rosie  may  awake  from  from  her  sleep  refreshed  and  "on  the 
road  to  recovery. 

CONS.  (Asid».)  Summoned  from  that  woman's  house  to  the 
bedside  of  his  sick  child  ! 

DOUG.  This  night  will  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  a 
happy  life  for  you  and  me,  Constance  —  the  beginning  of  a 
deeper  and  stronger  love  than  we  have  ever  known  before. 
Rosie's  future  will  be  all  the  brighter  for  it.  I  have  not  been 
such  a  husband  to  you,  of  late  years,  as  I  ought.  My  feverish 
haste  to  make  a  larger  fortune  has  led  to  what  has  seemed  to 
you  neglect  ;  —  and  it  was  none  the  less  neglect  because  I  was 
unconscious  of  it.  I  have  allowed  business  considerations  to 
outweigh  all  that  is  best  in  a  man's  life. 

CONS.     (Aside.)     Business  considerations  I     (Rising.) 

DOUG.  Our  love  has  been  only  flickering.  It  has  not  died 
out.  We  will  be  companions  hereafter. 

CONS.     (Aside.)     Companions  ! 

..-'  DOUG.  You  do  not  answer  me,  Constance.  (A  pause.  She 
maintains  her  silence  rigidly,  looking  away  from  him.)  You  are 
still  silent?  (DOUGLAS  stands  looking  at  her  a  moment,  and 
then  crosses  R.  c.  s'owty.  He  stops  and  looks  down  in  thought*) 
Have  I  discovered  my  fault  too  late  ? 

CONS.     At  that  woman's  house  f 

(DR.  MELLBANKE  enters  R.  IE.,  and  stops,  looks  first  at  CON 
STANCE,  then  at  DOUGLAS.     The  latter  turns  to  speak.) 

"DOUG.     Constance  —  my  —  wife  —  I  —    (DR.    MELLBANKE  ad 

vances,  taps  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  beckons  to  him  quietly. 
DOUGLAS  starts  and  stops,  as  if  a  sudden  fear  checked  him. 
DR.  MELLBANKE  glances  at  CONSTANCE  and  motions  silence  on 
his  lips.  DOUGLAS  starts  with  a  short,  quick  breath.  CONSTANCE 
turns  suddenly  at  the  sound,  and  looks  at  them  both.  The  DOC 
TOR  beckons  to  DOUGLAS  out  of  room,  quietly  takes  his  arm  and 
walks  out  with  him  R.  1  E.  CONSTANCE  wavers,  a  moment  on  tier 


26  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

feet  ;  then  gives  a  quick,  sharp  scream,  as  if  suddenly  comprehend 
ing  the  truth.    She  staggers  across  right,  front,  trying  to  reach 
door  at  R.  1  E.     ^^G^s,^reap^ears.^ 
CONS.     Rosie—  not—  not— 

Be  —  be  strong,  my  darling  —  be  strong! 
Rosie  is—  she  is—  (Staggering.    DOUGLAS  supports 


It  —  is  —  over.  (She  sinks  into  the  chair,  at  table. 
He  stands  over  her,  looking  down  tenderly.)  She  passed  away 
in  her  sleep.  My  wife  !  (Bends  down  as  if  to  embrace  her.  She 
looks  up  into  his  face  with  a  cold,  half  -dazed  expression,  then 
turns  from  him  and  sinks  with  her  head  upon  her  arms. 
DOUGLAS  withdraws  from  her  slowly,  tfien  speaks.}  The  last  — 
link  —  broken  3 

CURTAIN. 


ACT    THIRD. 

SCENE — Drawing-room.  Door  up  R.  with  hall  or  another  apart 
ment  at  back.  Door  R.  1  E.  Discovered :  CONSTANCE  sit 
ting  L.  c.,  and  EDITH  on  a  low  stool  by  her  side.  CONSTANCE 
is  dressed  in  black  ;  EDITH  in  white,  trimmed  with  black. 

EDITH.  I  have  been  thinking  about  Douglas  and  you,  Con 
stance,  almost  all  the  time,  to-day  and  yesterday.  I  dreamed 
about  you  last  night.  It  seems  very,  very  sad  for  Douglas  to 
go  away  to  Europe  to-day — all  by  himself. 

CONS.  Yes,  Edith  ;  it  is  sad. 

EDITH.  He  will  be  very  lonely  ;  and  you  will  be  lonely,  too. 
Why  don't  you  go  with  him  ? 

CONS.  Go  with  him  ?  Why — I — never  mind,  my  pet.  Do  not 
trouble  your  dear  little  head  about  Douglas  and  me.  We — we 
do  not  find  it  convenient — to  go  together. 

EDITH.  How  long  will  Douglas  be  gone  ? 

CONS.  I — I  cannot  tell. 

EDITH.  When  I  asked  him,  he  said  he  didn't  know. 

CONS.  Don't  think  of  it,  darling. 

EDITH.  I  can't  help  it ;  I  love  you  both  so  dearly,  and  I 
don't  wish  you  to  be  unhappy.  Mother  told  me  that  two 
people  who  loved  each  other  enough  to  be  married  wished  al 
ways  to  be  together  ;  and  I  know  how  I  should  feel  if  some  one 
that  I  loved  like  that  should  go  away. 

CONS.  Some  one  you  loved  ? 


YOU^G   MRS.    WINTHROP.  27 

EDITH.  Love  holds  two  people  together  so  closely,  that  one 
is  wretched  without  the  other. 

CONS.  Why,  my  little  innocent !  How  did  you  come  to  know 
anything  of  that? 

EDITH.  I — I  don't  know  ;  I — I've  been  thinking  about  it  for 
a  long  time.  Sometimes  I  ask  Mother.  She  always  tells 
me  to  listen  to  my  own  heart.  I — I  have  been  listening  to  it. 
I — I  do  love  some*  one,  Constance  !  (Dropping  her  head  into 
CONSTANCE'S  lap). 

CONS.  My  child  ! 

EDITH.  I'm  not  a  child  any  longer,  sister. 

CONS.  I  see  you  are  not,  my  dear. 

Enter  HERBERT,  up  R. 

HER.  Edith  !  (EDITH  starts  up,  rising  and  looking  down 
with  "  consciousness"  in  her  manner.}  I've  come  up  to  go  to 
the  steamer  with  Uncle  Douglas.  Here's  a  bunch  of  violets. 
They're  the  first  of  the  season  ;  I've  been  watching  for  them. 

EDITH.  Oh !  thank  you. 

^HER.  It's  half  an  hour  yet  before  Douglas  will  go ;  and  you 
are  so  fond  of  flowers — wouldn't  you  like  to  go  into  the  conser 
vatory  ? 

EDITH.  Yes,  Herbert.  (He  is  leading  her  up.  After  a  few 
steps  she  returns  and  leans  over  CONSTANCE,  who  still  sits  down 
L.  c.)  Sister,  don't  let  Douglas  go  alone  ! 

CONS.  (Kissing  her.}     Go  with  Herbert,  my  darling. 

(EDITH  turns  to  HERBERT,  who  leads  her  up  and  out  R.) 

No  longer  a  child  !     I  hope  she  will  be  happy. 

Enter  MAID  with  card,  up  R. 

(Reading  card.}  "Mrs.  Robert  W.  Mackenzie."  (Aside.) 
One  of  mother's  friends,  I  suppose — from  Boston,  perhaps. 
(Aloud.}  Take  the  card  to  Mrs.  Winthrop,  Jeanette. 

(Exit  MAID,  L.  1  E.    Enter  MRS.  DICK,  up  R. 
Barbara ! 

MRS.  DICK.  Constance,  my  love  !  Your  husband  is  going  to 
Europe,  to-day,  I  hear. 

CONS.  Yes.     (Crossing  R.  and  sitting.) 

MRS.  DICK,  (c.)  Business,  I  suppose.  A  married  man  never 
seems  to  care  for  the  distance  he  has  to  travel — on  business — 
when  he's  alone.  Dick  told  me  one  day — there  was  a  big  law- 
case  in  the  West — no,  that  was  Bob — it  was  a  medical  conven 
tion.  "I've  orot  to  go  to  Chicago,  my  dear,  on  professional 
business,"  said  he.  "  Oh,  how  far  /"  said  I.  "  Merely  a  pleasant 
iaunt,"  said  he.  "  Til  go  with  you,  my  love,"  said  I.  "  My 
darling,"  said  he,  "it's  nine  hundred  miles!"  Ha-ha-ha-ha! 
Fir*t  class  in  matrimonial  jreography  :  What  is  the  exact  dis 
tance  between  the  city  of  New  York  and  the  city  of  Chicago  ? 
Answer :  It  depends  on  circumstances.  Correct ;  go  to  the 
head.  (Enter  MRS.  RUTH,  L.  1  E.,  the  card  in  her  hand.}  Ah  ! 


28  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

my  dear  Mrs.  Winthrop,  I  came  to  tell  Constance  some  news — 
you  shall  hear  it,  too. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Thank  you  ;  I  shall  be  very  glad.  But — (look 
ing  across  to  CONSTANCE) — you  sent  me  a  card,  Constance — a 
Mrs.  Mackenzie. 

CONS.  She  is  in  the  reception-room.  Isn't  she  calling  on 
you? 

MRS.  DICK.  Why,  I'm  Mrs.  Mackenzie  ! 

CONS.  You ! 

MRS.  DICK.  That's  my  card. 

MRS.  RUTH.     (Confused.)    But — your  name — is — Chetwyn. 

MRS.  DICK.  It  was  day  before  yesterday.  Dick  and  I  have 
got  a  divorce. 

CONS.     A  divorce  ! 

MRS.  RUTH.     Divorce  ! 

MRS.  DICK.  M— m.  That's  my  news.  Sit  down.  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it.  (They  sit.)  We've  been  living  in  Connecticut 
for  the  last  year,  you  know — except  a  few  months  in  New 
York,  during  the  winter. 

CONS.     Yes — I  know. 

MRS.  RUTH.  (With  a  bemldered  air.)  What  has  living  in 
Connecticut  to  do  with  a — a  divorce  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  It  has  everything  to  do  with  it.  They  grant  you 
a  divorce  there  for  incompatibility  of  temper. 

MRS.  RUTH.  But  I — I  didn't  know  that  you  and  your  hus 
band  were  incompatible. 

MRS.  DICK.  Neither  did  we — till  we  went  to  live  in  Con 
necticut.  We  never  knew  we  had  any  tempers,  to  speak  of,  be 
fore.  When  we  took  a  house  in  Stamford,  we  didn't  dream  of 
the  effect  it  would  have  on  a  man  and  wife.  Of  course  Dick 
and  I  were  both  witnesses  in  the  case. 

MRS.  RUTH.     It  must  have  been  very  sad. 

MRS.  DICK.  Yes,  it  was  :— I  had  on  a  brocade— lavender 
and  old  gold — lace  to  match  the  lavender — and  sleeves  puffed 
above  the  elbows.  (MRS.  RUTH  looks  at  her  in  bewilderment.) 
The  evidence  was  so  comical. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Comical  ! 

MRS.  DICK.  You  ought  to  have  been  there.  Ha-ha-ha-ha  ! 
It  was  all  about  how  Dick  and  I  have  been  saying  mean  things 
to  each  other  for  a  year — so  as  to  obey  the  laws  of  the  State. 
We  called  each  other  all  sorts  o'  names.  When  we  were  first 
married  Dick  said  I  was  a  turtle-dove  ;— after  we  got  to  Con 
necticut  he  said  I  was  a  snapping  turtle-dove.  Ha-ha-ha-ha  !  I 
began  by  calling  him  a  donkey — and  then  I  called  him  a  whole 
lot  of  other  animals.  He  told  the  judge,  according  to  me  he 
was  a  regular  Noah's  Ark.  I  told  the  judge  Dick  called  me 
animals  too.  The  judge  said  we  seemed  to  be  a  happy  family  ; 
— and  so  he  granted  the  divorce.  I've  gone  back  to  my  first 
husband's  name. 

CONS.     Ah — I  remember  : — Mackenzie. 

MRS.  DICK.     I'm  Mrs.  Bob,  again  now.     I  gave  Dick  all  the 


YOUNG    MRS.    WINTHROP.  29 

old  cards  I  had  left  over— and  the  plate.  I  didn't  want  to  keep 
Dick's  name.  If  he  should  get  married  again,  it'd  be  awkward, 
having  two  of  us  ;  we'd  get  mixed  up.  Of  course  it  doesn't 
make  any  difference  to  Bob.  So  Douglas  sails  to-day. 

MRS.  RUTH.  (Rising.')  Yes  ! — and  if  you  will  kindly  excuse 
rne— 

MRS.  DICK.  Certainly.  (Rising.)  I  must  run  along,  my 
self.  Good  morning. 

MRS.  RUTH.     Good  morning.  (Ihen  moving  to  her  and  speak 
ing  'very  earnestly.}     Believe  me,  my  dear  Mrs. — Mrs. — 
MRS.  DICK.     Mackenzie. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Mackenzie.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  and  your 
husband  are  separated. 

MRS.  DICK.  (Earnestly}  Thank  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Win- 
throp — but  don't  worry  yourself  about  it  : — we  don't.  (MRS. 
RUTH  turns,  throwing  up  her  hands,  and  goes  out  L.,  shaking  her 
head.)  Good  by,  Constance,  my  love — I'm  going  to  pop  in  and 
tell  Mrs.  Garnette  : — she's  just  got  a  divorce,  too,  you  know. 
(Kissing  7ier  and  running  up  stage.) 

CONS.  Good  by.  (Moving  up  into  recess  of  window  L.  and 
stands  looking  out.) 

MRS.  DICK.  (Stopping  up  R.  c.  near  opening,  and  looking  R.) 
Here's  Mr.  Buxton  Scott.  (BuxTON  SCOTT  appears  from  R, 
He  and  MRS.  DICK  bow  deeply  to  each  other.) 

SCOTT.     Mrs.  Chetwyn. 

MRS.  DICK.    Mrs. — Mackenzie  ! — if  you  please. 

SCOTT.     (Turning  and    looking  after  her.)    Eh? — Mac?-- 

MRS.  DICK.     Dick  and  I  are  separated. 

SCOTT.  I  never  happened  to  meet  either  of  you  when  you 
weren't  separated. 

MRS.  DICK.     We've  got  a  divorce. 

SCOTT.  Ah  !  Then  you  and  Dick  will  see  something  of  each 
other.  I  congratulate  you  both.  When  were  you  divorced? 

MRS.  DICK.     Day  before  yesterday. 

SCOTT.     And  you've  married  a  Mr.  Mackenzie  since  ? 

MRS.  DICK.     Mr.  Scott ! 

SCOTT.  Oh  1  I  beg  your  pardon ;  you've  taken  your  first 
husband's  name  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  Yes.  My  maiden  name  was  too  far  back.  By 
the  by,  my  darling  old  aunt,  Miss  Vandevere,  said  the  other 
day  that  slie  hoped  you  would  come  and  see  her. 

SCOTT.  With  pleasure.  She's  a  charming  old  lady.  Give 
her  my  compliments.  Tell  her  I  hope  to  drop  in  ofien. 

MRS.  DICK.     I  will.     I'm  living  with  her. 

SCOTT.     Eh?    (In  surprise  andtuining  L.) 

MRS.  DICK.     You  are  still  a  bachelor  ? 

SCOTT.    I  am. 

MRS.  DICK.     I  pity  you,  Mr.  Scott.    You  should  marry. 

SCOTT.     And  pity  myself?     I  prefer  to  have  you  pity  me. 

MRS.  DICK.  (Approaching  him.)  You  really  ought  to  make 
some  woman  happy. 


30  YOUNG   MKS.    WINTHKOP. 

SCOTT.  (Aside.)  She's  after  number  tliree.  (Turning  to 
her.)  My  dear  Mrs.  Dick. 

MRS.  DICK.     Bob. 

SCOTT.  Mrs.  Bob.  (Looking  down  at  her  through  his  eye 
glasses.}  I'll  drop  in  on  Dick  and  ask  his  opinion..  He  knows 
you  so  well. 

MRS.  DICK.     Me  !     Bless  you  !     I  meant  Aunt  Jane. 

SCOTT.     Oh!    (Turnwy  ~L.) 

MRS.  DICK.  I'm  sure  she'd  make  you  happy.  She's  a 
charming  old'lady.  Ha-ha-ha-ha — (Running  R. — stops.)  Come 
and  see  Aunt  Jane — often.  (Exit  up  R.) 

SCOTT.  An  old  maid  and  a  young  grass  widow!  Two  to 
one!  (Crossings.)  I  shall  not  call.  (He  turns,  changing  his 
tone  and  manner.)  Constance.  (/She  turns  to  hitn,  giving  both 
her  hands.  He  holds  them  in  his  own,  looking  at  her  with  kindly 
interest,  and  speaking  in  an  earnest,  fatherly  tone.}  Douglas 
asked  me  to  come  and  see  him  this  morning,  before  he  sailed. 

CONS.     He  is  in  his  room.     I  will  send  for  him. 

SCOTT.  Thank  you.  (He  still  retains  her  hands,  looking 
steadily  into  her  face.)  Constance,  I  have  known  you  and 
Douglas  since  you  were  children.  You  have  often  called  me 
your  "  second  father." 

CONS.     You  are  the  dearest  friend  we  have  in  the  world. 

SCOTT.     There  is  something  on  your  heart. 

CONS.     On— my — heart  ? 

SCOTT.  I'm  only  a  hard  old  bachelor,  and  a  stony-hearted 
old  lawyer,  but  you  may  speak  to  me — as — as  if  I  were  really 
your  father. 

CONS.  There  are  some  things  which  one  cannot — will  not — 
talk  about — to  any  one. 

SCOTT.  When  you  were  a  little  girl,  you  used  to  bring  all 
your  troubles  to  me. 

CONS.     I  am  a  woman  now. 

SCOTT.  Constance,  there  is  something  wrong  between  you 
and  your  husband. 

CONS.     Something — wrong ! — yes. 

SCOTT.     Will  you  confide  in  me  ? 

CONS.  I — I — (hesitates — turns  away)  —  oh  !  I  cannot  !  —  I 
cannot  confide  in  any  one. 

SCOTT.  I  will  not  ask  you  to  ;  but  I  will  give  you  the  advice 
which  your  own  father  would  give  if  he  were  living.  What 
ever  is  on  your  heart,  go  to  your  husband — 

CONS.  To  him  !— no,  I  am  a  humiliated  wife.  My  natural 
pride  compels  me  to  be  silent. 

SCOTT.     What  can  have  happened  to  make  you  feel  like  this  ? 

CONS.  We  will  not  talk  about  that.  For  two  years  and  over 
we  have  been  growing  more  distant  and  more  indifferent.  I 
am  worn  out,  with  such  a  life,  at  last.  We— we  do  not  love 
each  other  now. 

SCOTT.     M — m — m.     You  do  not  love  each  other? 

CONS.     No  ;  our  love  is  a  matter  of  the  past. 


YOUNG    MRS.    WINTHROP.  31 

SCOTT.-    How  long  will  Douglas  be  gone  ? 

CONS.     I — I  do  not  know. 

SCOTT.  M — in— m.  Of  course,  now  that  your  love  is  a  mat 
ter  of  the  past  (glancing  at  her  shrewdly},  it  must  be  a  great 
relief  to  you  to — to  have  Douglas  go  away. 

CONS.  Yes, — it  is — (choking] — a — a — a  great  relief.  (Burst 
ing  into  tears.  SCOTT  approaches  her  and  drops  one  arm  about 
her  waist.) 

SCOTT.     My  child  ! 

CONS.  Father!  (Turning  to  him  and  hiding  her  face  in  his 
breast.) 

SCOTT.  (Tenderly,  yet  half  humorously,  patting  her  head.) 
I'm  sorry  you  don't  love  each  other  any  more.  It  is  nearly  time 
for  Douglas  to  start,  my  dear  ;  go  and  ask  him  to  come  to  me. 

CONS.  "Yes — I — I'll — (going  L.) — I'll  tell  him  you  are  here. 

(Exit  L.  IE.,  "still  crying.) 

SCOTT.  (Looking  of ter  her r  with  a  smile.)  It's  a  pity  they 
don't  love  each  other  any  more.  I  shall  make  it  my  personal 
and  professional  duty  to  bring  these  two  wrong-headed  young 
people  together — in  spite  of  themselves.  Providence,  so  to 
speak,  has  appointed  me  their  attorney.  I — take — the — case. 
The  devil  is  the  opposing  counsel.  He's  a  good  lawyer  ;  and 
highly  respected  by  his  fellow-members  of  the  profession.  He 
and  I  have  frequently  been  on  the  same  side  of  a  case  : — I  know 
his  tricks.  (Sitting  R.)  I  dare  say  a  little  lying  will  be  neces 
sary.  If  it  is  I'll  beat  him  at  his  own  game.  Even  a  lawyer 
must  lie,  now  and  then. 

Enter  DOUGLAS  L.  1  E.    He  is  in  travelling  suit. 

DOUG.    My  dear  Scott  1    (Taking  SCOTT'S  hand.) 

SCOTT.     Douglas  ! 

I  must  apologize  for  asking  you  to  come  here;  but 
I  found  it  impossible,  yesterday  at  the  office,  to  say  what  J 
wanted.  (He  strikes  bell  on  table,  R.  c.)  I — I  could  not  say  it 
until  the  very  last  moment.  (Enter  MAID  up  R.)  Is  the  car 
riage  at  the  door,  Jeanette  ? 

MAID.     Yes,  sir. 

DOUG.  Tell  Henry  my  trunk  and  valise  are  ready,  and  say 
to  my  mother  and  Miss  Edith  that  I  will  be  dowu  in  a  few 
moments. 

MAID.    Yes,  sir.     (Exit  up  R.) 

DOUG.  (Turning  to  SCOTT.)  I  arranged  yesterday  for  you 
to  take  the  entire  management  of  my  property,  during  my 
absence. 

SCOTT.    Yes. 

DOUG.  I — I  also  hinted  that  I  should  ask  you  to  make 
certain  settlements  of  my  estate.  (A  pause.)  My  departure  for 
Europe,  to-day,  is  the  beginning  of  a  final  and  absolute — sep 
aration — between  my — wife— and  me. 

SCOTT.     A — .final — separation  !    The  cause  of  this,  DOUGLAS  ? 

DOUG.     What  makes  a  solid  rock  fall  to  pieces  without  any 


32  YOUNG    MRS.    WINTHROP. 

apparent  cause  ?  The  silent  and  invisible  power  of  a  winter's 
frost.  A  frost  like  that  has  come  upon  Constance  and 
me.  (^4.  slight  pause.}  It  was  my  own  fault,  I  gave  myself 
up  to  the  struggle  for  wealth.  My  wife  lived  alone  and  neg 
lected,  as  many  another  rich  man's  wife  lives — surrounded  by 
everything  a  husband's  money  can  furnish  to  make  her  happy. 
One  night — not  many  weeks  ago — my  mother  told  me  how 
cruelly  I  had  neglected  Constance — how  I  had  robbed  her  of  a 
home.  I  confessed  my  wrong  to  my  wife  at  once.  I  spoke  to 
her  lovingly.  She  was  silent.  At  that  very  moment,  the  Angel 
of  Death  passed  upward  with  the  soul  of  our  little  one  in  his 
arms.  My  child— and  my  wife's  love — were  both — dead  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  we  buried  them  in  the  same  grave.  Since  that 
night,  Constance  has  been — respectful — and  kind  to  me — but 
cold  and  distant — never  the  loving  wife.  We  have  both  lived 
within  ourselves — strangers  to  each  other  in  our  own  home — 
husband  and  wife  only  to  the  world.  We  are  nothing  to  each 
other  now  but — ice. 

SCOTT.  M — m.  (Glancing  at  him,  then  rather  carelessly.}  I 
hope  you'll  have  a  pleasant  voyage,  Douglas — and  a  happy 
time,  on  the  other  side. 

„  DOUG.  Happy  ?  Can  you  say  "  happy  "?  You  ? — who  knew 
us  both  when  we  were  happy,  indeed  !  How  can  you  mock  me 
like  that  ?  You  are  cruel,  Scott — you  are  cruel !  (Dropping 
his  face  into  his  hands,  SCOTT  approaches  him,  c.  and  extends 
Ms  hand.) 

SCOTT.  Douglas — (taking  one  of  his  hands  in  his  own}— I 
see  you  are  quite  right.  You  are  both  of  you  nothing — but — 
ice.  (Looking  into  DOUGLAS'  face  with  a  keen  glance,  still  hold 
ing  his  hand  ;  DOUGLAS  returns  his  glance,  then  turns  away,  L. 
SCOTT  continues,  aside,  turning  R.)  Mount  Hecla  is  nothing 
but  ice — on  the  outside.  But  it's  a  tolerably  lively  volcano,  for 
all  that  ;  there's  plenty  of  heat  inside. 

DOUG.  I  wish  you  to — to  draw  up  the  papers  for  an  equal 
division  of  my  property,  between  my  wife  and  me — and  such 
other  papers  as  our — legal — separation — may  involve. 

SCOTT.  No,  Douglas ! — I  cannot.  I  love  you  both  too 
much. 

DOUG.  I  should  not  have  asked  you.  We  must  call  upon 
a  stranger,  after  all.  (Sitting  L.  c.) 

SCOTT.  No  !— not  to  a  stranger.  If— if  it  must  be  done, 
you  may  leave  it  in  my  hands.  How  long  will  you  be  away  ? 

DOUG.  I  cannot  tell  ;  years,  perhaps.  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
could  ?iever  return  to  America. 

SCOTT.    You  must. 
^xDouG.     Must?  "= 

SCOTT.  (Aside.)  Now  for  my  first  lie  in  the  case.  (Aloud.) 
I  cannot  possibly  make  a  division  of  your  property,  unless  you 
are  in  this  country. 

DOUG.     You  have  my  power  of  attorney. 

SCOTT.     In  such  a  case  as  this,  a  power  of  attorney  would  be 


YOUKG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  33 

utterly  useless.  (Aside.)  He  doesn't  know  anything  about 
law.  If  another  lawyer  overheard  my  legal  advice,  he'd  think 
/  didn't.  (Aloud.)  Can't  you  come  back — in  three  months  ? 

DOUG.     Three  months  ?    Impossible  ! 

SCOTT.  1  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  New  York  in  four 
months,  for  the  Sandwich  Islands — an  important  case  for  the 
United  States  Government.  I  may  be  gone  two  years.  (Aside.) 
The  opposite  counsel  himself  can't  beat  that. 

DOUG.     I  cannot  confide  this  matter  to  any  one  but  you. 

SCOTT.     Well  then — you  must  return— in  three  months. 

DOUG.     (After  apause.)     Well,  I  will. 

SCOTT.  (Aside.)  I've  gained  the  first  point  in  the  case. 
The  sooner  I  can  bring  them  together,  the  harder  it'll  be  for 
the  devil  to  keep  them  apart.  (Aloud.)  Constance,  of  course, 
understands  my  relations  to — 

X  DOUG.  We  have  never  spoken  on  the  subject  of  our  final 
separation. 

SCOTT.     Ah  ! 

DOUG.  Of  course,  we  both  understand  the  situation.  But 
we  bade  each  other  good  by,  a  moment  ago,  without  a  word. 

SCOTT.     You  have  said  good  by,  already  ? 

DOUG.  Yes.  (Rising  and  going  up.)  I  am  simply  flying  from 
a  life  which  I  can  endure  no  longer.  We  can  write  to  each 
other  on  the  subject.  We  cannot  trust  our  tongues.  You,  of 
course,  can  communicate  with  Constance,  as  my  representative. 

SCOTT.     My  dear  Douglas— you  do  not  understand  the  law. 

DOUG.     The  law?     No. 

SCOTT.  (Aside.)  I  don't  intend  he  shall.  (Aloud.)  It  is  a 
legal  impossibility  for  me  to  act  in  any  capacity  whatever, 
between  you  and  your  wife,  unless  you  meet  her  again,  per 
sonally — at  once — and  come  to  an  exact  mutual  understanding 
as  to  your  respective  intentions.  De  Vinculo  Matrimonii — 
Chapter  thirty-seven — section  two  hundred  and  thirty-nine — 
Revised  Statutes — 1878.  (Aside.)  Lie  number  three.  (Striking 
bell  on  table  and  rising.)  If  I  leave  them  alone  together,  it's 
twenty  to  one  he  won't  go  to  Europe  at  all.  (Crosses  L.  C.) 
(Enter  MAID  R.)  Please  ask  Mrs.  Winthrop  if  she  will  kindly 
come  here.  (Exit  MAID  L.  1  E.)  Good  by,  Douglas. 

DOUG.     You  will  remain  ? 

SCOTT.  I  have  an  immediate  engagement.  (Taking  out 
watch.)  It  is  now  after  eleven  o'clock.  I  have  a  case  before  the 
Superior  Court  at  eleven-thirty.  (Aside.)  If  I  keep  on  lying 
at  this  remarkable  rate,  and  with  such  perfect  ease,  I'll  begin 
to  suspect  I'm  the  devil  himself.  (Offers  DOUGLAS  his  hand.) 

DOUG.     Good  by,  old  friend  ! 

SCOTT.  Good  by.  (Turning  up  c.  DOUGLAS  turns  to  table 
R.  c.)  If  the  good  angels  ever  do  help  a  lawyer — when  he 
happens  to  be  on  their  side — I'll  win  my  case. 

(Exit  up  R.  DOUGLAS  has  taken  a  miniature  from  the 
table,  R.  c.  He  raises  it  to  Ms  lips  and  is  looking  at 
id  as  CONSTANCE  enters,  L.  1.  E.) 


34  TOUKG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

CONS.     Douglas. 

DOUG.  Ah — Constance.  (Leaves  miniature  on  the  table. )  I 
have  just  had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Scott.  I  desired  to  leave 
a — a  very  important  matter— affecting  us  both — in  his  hands. 
But  he  has  just  assured  me  that  he  cannot  possibly  act  as  our 
legal  adviser  in  any  way  whatever  unless  we  come  to  a — 
a  lull  mutual  understanding  as  to— as  to — the— the  relation 
which  we — which  we  intend  to — to  bear  to  each  other — here 
after. 

CONS.     A — a  mutual  understanding — yes. 

We  may  be  perfectly  frank  with  each  other  now. 
We  will  speak  at  last  what  we  have  both  understood  for 
many  weeks  in  our  hearts.  My  departure  is  only  a  cloak,  of 
course,  to  hide  the  truth  for  a"  little  time  from  our  friends, 
and  from  the  world.  We — we  are  about  to — to  separate — 
forever. 

CONS.  Separate — forever  ! — (witli  emotion,  almost  staggering] 
— yes.  . 

DOUG.  I  find  it  necessary  to  return  in  three  months.  We 
can  then  make  such — final — and  permanent — arrangements — 
concerning  our — our  merely  legal  relations— as  we  may  mutu 
ally  agree  upon.  I — I  take  it  for  granted  that  you,  no  more 
than  I,  desire  any  form  of — divorce. 

CONS.    No — not  that. 

DOUG.     We  can  both  trust  Mr.  Buxton  Scott. 

CONS.     Yes ! 

DOUG.  He  can  draw  up  a  mutual  agreement  of — separation 
— in  the  usual  legal  form.  We  must  meet — once  more — to 
sign  it — and— and — that  will  be  the — end. 

CONS.     The — end — yes.     (Sinks  in  chair  L.  c.) 

DOUG.  While  I  am  away  you  will  remain  in  this  house  ; 
and  I  shall  have  it  transferred  to  you  in  the  final  division  of 
the  property.  It  has  many  sad  memories  for  both  of  us  ;  but 
we  have  passed  some  very  happy  hours  in  it,  too.  The  voice 
of  our  child,  now  silent,  has  made  its  walls  sacred.  The  ashes 
of  our  own  love  have  become  cold  upon  the  hearthstone  ;  but 
her  little  spirit  may  still  hover  about  our  former  home  ; 
and  it  seems  right  that  it  should  always  find  her  mother 
here.  Good  by,  Constance.  (Moving  to  her  and  extendiny 
Ms  hand.} 

CONS.  (Rising,  turning  toward  him,  and  placing  7ier  hand 
in  hi*,  looking  dozen.)  Good  by,  Douglas.  (He  holds  Jier  hand 
a  moment;  then  turns  upstage.  lie  stops  and  moves  down  to 
the  table  R.  c.,  taking  the  child's  picture.) 

^>DouG.  Constance,  you  have  other  pictures  of  Rosie.  I, 
too,  have  another  with  me.  But  this  one  has  a  value  in  my 
eyes  that  no  one  else,  not  even  you,  could  understand.  May  I 
take  it  with  me  ? 

CONS.     Yes.    Her  memory  will  belong  to  both  of  us  forever. 

DOUG.  (Aside.)  I  see  her  face  in  this — mother  and  child  in 
•one.  (He  then  moves  up  n.  She  looks  after  him,  making  a  sud- 


YOUKG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  35 

den  movement  as  if  to  go  to  him,  which  she  checks.    He  passes 
out  rapidly  without  looking  back.} 

GONS.     Child  and  husband — both  gone  ! 
CURTAIN. 


ACT    FOURTH. 

SCENE — Same  as  that  of  Act  First ;  without  the  child's  toys, 
and  with  some  changes  in  the  arrangement  of  the  furni 
ture.  Small  table  a  little  left  of  c.,  front,  with  inkstand  and 
pens.  The  portrait  of  Rosie  is  absent.  No  fire.  It  is  now 
spring.  Afternoon.  Edith  and  Herbert  discovered.  She 
is  sitting  near  c. ,  sewing.  He  sits  near  her,  L.  c. ,  with  a  book 
in  his  hand,  in  a  thoughtful  attitude,  as  if  he  had  stopped 
reading,  losing  himself  in  revery. 

EDITH.     It's  a  very  pretty  story.     Go  on,  Herbert.     I  like 
to  hear  you  read.     You've  been  silent  for  a  long  time. 
-*— HER.     I've  been  thinking. 
EDITH.     What  about  ? 

About  you. 

EDITH.  I  must  go  to  my  room.  I  haven't  given  the  canary 
his  bath  to-day,  and  I  must  see  how  the  old  cat  and  the  new 
kittens  are  getting  on.  (Rising.) 

No  ;  please  don't  go.    (She  resumes  her  seat.)    Edith, 


you  are  so  different  from  what  you  used  to  be.  You  always 
run  away  from  me,  now — except  when  some  one  is  with  us,  or 
when  I  am  reading  to  you, — and  whenever  I  try  to  tell  you 
what  is  in  my  heart,  you  change  the  subject. 

EDITH.     I  must  thread  my  needle  again. 

~[ER.     (After  a  glance  and  a  pause.)    I'll  thread  it  for  you. 

EDITH.  You  !  (Laughing,  as  she  takes  thread  fi  om  spool.) 
I  haven't  time  to  wait. 

HER.  Oh,  I  can  thread  it.  Every  young  bachelor  learns  how 
to  do  that.  I  often  have  to  sew  on  buttons  and  things. 

EDITH.     Well,  you  may  do  it. 
.—-HER.     (Taking  needle  and  thread.)     Whew  ! 

EDITH.     What's  the  matter? 
-HER.     It's  sharp. 

EDITH.  (Laughing.)  Didn't  you  know  that  before  ?  I  knew; 
you'd  get  into  trouble.  Mind  you  thread  the  right  end^^.^,\. 

-HER.     You  like  the  story  I  am  reading  ? 

EDITH.  Yes.  The  part  I  like  best  is  where  love  is  gradu 
ally  growing  in  her  heart — without  her  knowing  why — or 
where  it  came  from — or  what  it  is. 

[ER.     I  can't  see  anything  of  that  kind  in  the  story. 

EDITH.     You  can't ! 


36  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

EH.     She  doesn't  seem  to  love  bim  at  all.  yet. 
----- 


EDITH.     Oh,  yes,  she  does  ! 

[ER.  She  always  avoids  him  ;  and  Whenever  he  trief  to 
make  love  to  her,  she  finds  an  excuse  for  leaving  him — or  talks 
about  something  else. 

EDITH.     Why,  that's  the  very  sign  she  loves  him. 
Is  it,  Edith  ?    (Eagerly.} 

EDITH.  Of  course ! — don't  you  understand  that  ?  I'm  sure 
she  loves  him.  I  feel  it,  as  you  go  along  in  the  book. 

HEK.  (Significantly — looking  at  her  earnestly.}  That's  just 
the  way  you  act  to  me. 

EDITH.    Is  the  needle  threaded  ? 

»*»  HER.     One  moment.     (Suddenly    beginning    to    thrust    the 
thread  at  the  eye  of  the  needle.} 

EDITH.     How  are  you  getting  on  ? 

Splendidly  !     We're  having  a  regular  set-to.     This 
'is  such  a  little  fellow  ! 

EDITH.     Ha-ha-ha-ha. 
-—  HER.     I  can  always  get  ahead  of  a  big  one. 

EDITH.     Ha-ha-ha.     Hadn't /better  do  it,  Herbert? 
-  HER.     No.     1  can  do  it.     ( With  a  vigorous  thrust.} 

EDITH.  (After  a  pause.}  Isn't  the  hero  of  the  story  funny, 
Herbert? 

HER.     Funny?— how? 

EDITH.  He  was  so  frank  and  bold  at  first.  But  now  that  she 
really  loves  him,  he  never  seems  to  know  what  to  do  or  say. 

HER.     Oh,  1  understand  him  well  enough. 

EDITH.     He  seems  almost  afraid  of  her. 

HER.  Of  course  he  does.  That's  the  way  with  any  man, 
when  he  really  loves  a  woman.  (Looking  at  her  earnestly.}  I'm 
almost  afraid  of  you. 

EDITH.     Is  the  needle  ready  ? 

HER.  I'll  hit  it  in  the  eye  in  a  moment.  (Beginning  to 
thrust  at  the  needle  again.  He  goes  on,  keeping  his  eye  intently 
on  the  needle,  and  trying  to  thread  it  with  a  variety  of  motions, 
ranging  from  quiet  efforts  to  desperate  thrusts. }  Of  course  a 
man  can't  talk  to  a  woman  he  loves — (needle)— as  easily  as  he 
can — (needle) — to  a  woman  he  doesn't  love. 

EDITH.  In  the  last  chapter  you  read  they  were  alone  to 
gether  nearly  an  hour,  and  he  never  said  a  word  about  love. 

HER.  He  was  coming  to  the  subject  half  a  dozen  times — 
(needle) — and  she  always  turned  him  off. 

EDITH.     But  she  was  thinking  about  it. 

^HER.     How  could  he  tell  that  ? 

EDITH.     He  might  have  guessed  it. 

>HER.  I  don't  see  how  he  could  guess  that  she  was  thinking 
about-love  (paying  great  attention  to  needle)— when  she  was 
talking^bout  her  old  cat  and  new  kittens — (needle) — or  her 

icanarjrs  bath. 
EDITH.     I  don't  remember  that  in  the  book. 
HER.    Eh  !— Oh !— No. 


YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  37 

EDITH.  There's  nothing  about  a  cat  or  a  canary  in  the 
story  you  were  reading.  , 

"HER.  You  know  the  story  T am  thinking  about.  (Rising  and 
leaning  over  her,  speaking  earnestly.}  Do  you  remember,  Edith, 
one  night  last  winter,  I  told  you  I  hoped  to  have  a  little  home 
of  my  own  ? 

EDITH.     Yes.     (Dropping  her  head.} 
— — -HER.     And  I  said,  I — I  hoped  to  get— married. 

EDITH.    Yes. 

HER.  You  didn't  know  what  I  meant — when  I  told  you — I 
loved  you. 

EDITH.  I — I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  as  love  till  that 
night. 

HER.     I  tried  to  teach  you  what  it  was. 

EDITH.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  lived  years  since  then.  (Rising, 
and  turning  R.) 

_ — .~HER.  (With  deep  earnestness.}  Edith — I  love  you — with 
all  my  soul ! — bwt  I  feel  as  if  /could  learn  from  you  now.  I 
hardly  dare  ask  for  your  love.  It  could  not  be  stronger  than 
mine — but  it  would  be  better  and  sweeter  and  purer. 

EDITH.  (After  a  slight  pause.}  You  need  not  ask  for  it.  It 
belongs  to  you. 

HgT?  My  darling  I  (Embracing  her.}  I  shall  be  your 
guide  and  your  protector  through  life  ! 

EDITH.  O  Herbert — I  am  so  happy  !  (Her  head  resting  on 
Jiis  breast} 

HER.     Whew ! 

EDITH.     (Starlmg  up.)    What  is  it,  Herbert  ? 

HER.     That  needle, 

EDITH.  (Sympathetically.}  O— h  ; — where  is  it  ?  (Taking 
Jiis  hand,  which  he  puts  in  hers,  and  touching  different  parts  with 
her  finger.}  Here  ? 

HER.    No. 

EDITH.     Here  ? 

HER.     No. 

EDITH.     Here  ? 

HER.     Yes — there. 

EDITH.     A — h!     (Putting  his  hand  to  her  lips.} 

HER.  We  can  look  after  the  old  cat  and  the  new  kittens, 
now. 

R.  1  E.   Enter  CONSTANCE  up  R.    She  moves  down 
R.  c. ,  glancing  at  clock  on  mantel. 

CONS.  Will  the  time  never  come?  Oh  !  I  wish  to-day 
were  past. 

Enter  MRS.  RUTH  up  L.,  in  bonnet,  etc. 

MRS.  RUTH.  Constance! — I  have  just  left  Douglas— at  his 
hotel.  He  has  told  me  the  worst  !  This  afternoon  you  are 
to  sign  the  papers  that  separate  you  forever. 

CONS.     Yes.     I  could  not  tell  you. 

MRS.  RUTH.    When  Douglas  did  not  come  to  his  own  home, 


38  YOUNG   MRS.    WIKTHROP. 

I  knew,  for  the  first  time,  how  wide  the  gulf  between  you  had 
become.  Isit  too  late  ? 

CONS.     Yes  ! — too  late.     (Crossing  R.) 

MRS.  RUTH.  Douglas  said  the  same.  (Passing  CONSTANCE, 
and  moving  toward  the  door  R.  1  E.)  My  heart  is  full.  (She 
stops  near  door  with  her  hands  over  her  face  ;  rouses  herself  and 
turns.}  I — I  shall  always  love  you,  Constance,  as  my  own 
child ! 

CONS.     Mother!     (Going  to  her.} 

MRS.  RUTH.  (Embracing  her.}  My  daughter  !  (She  kisses 
her  and  goes  out  R.  1  E.  CONSTANCE  stands  looking  after  her.} 

Enter  MAID  up  L.,  with  a  card. 

CONS.  I  can  see  no  one  to, day,  Jeanette — (Takes  card} — 
except — Mr.  Buxton  Scott  will  be  here — you  may  admit  him 
at  once.  (Exit  MAID  up  L.  CONSTANCE  reads  card.}  "  Mrs.— 
Richard — Chetwy  n ." 

MRS.  DICK.  (Putting  her  head  in  at  door,  up  L.)  How 
d'  y'  do  ? 

CONS.     Barbara  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  Dick  and  I  have  got  married  again.  I'm  using 
the  same  old  cards.  May  I  come  in? 

CONS.     Certainly. 

MRS.  DICK.  I'lf  tell  you  all  about  it.  (Sitting  beside  her}  It 
was  private.  We  found  that  being  divorced  was  worse  than 
being  incompatible.  We  were  both  awfully  lonely.  Ha-ha- 
ha  !  Dick  and  I  went  through  our  courtship  all  over  again, 
just  as  if  we'd  never  been  married  at  all.  Poor  Aunt  Jane 
had  another  dreadful  time  with  me. 

CONS.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  Aunt  Jane  Vandeveer  brought  me  up,  you 
know.  The  dear  old  maid  !  I've  always  been  her  favorite 
niece.  She's  going  to  leave  me  all  her  money.  I  went  to  stay 
with  Aunt  Jane  again  after  Dick  and  I  were  separated.  She 
was  more  particular  with  me  than  she  was  when  I  was  a  young 
lady.  Ha-ha-ha !  One  day  Aunt  Jane  and  I  passed  Dick  on 
Madison  Avenue.  Of  course  we  didn't  bow  to  each  other.  But 
Dick  winked  at  me.  Aunt  Jane  saw  it  She  was  fearfully 
indignant.  The  next  time  we  met— Aunt  Jane  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  me — 1  winked  at  Bob — I  mean  Dick.  After 
that  we  carried  on  a  regular  flirtation  with  each  other.  He 
used  to  pass  the  house  and  wave  his  handkerchief.  Aunt  Jane 
always  closed  the  parlor  shutters  with  a  bang,  and  I  kissed 
my  hand  to  him  out  of  the  second  story  window.  Ha-ha-ha  ! 
Then  Dick  sent  me  a  secret  note  by  one  of  the  servants.  We 
arranged  a  clandestine  meeting  in  Stuyvesant  Square  ;  and  we 
went  down  to  Long  Beach  together.  Dick  said  sweet  things 
to  me  all  the  afternoon,  just  as  he  did  when  we  first  fell  in 
love  ;  and  after  it  was  dark,  we  wandered  off  on  the  beach  by 
ourselves,  in  the  moonlight — and  I  had  tears  in  my  eyes — and 


YOUNG   MKS.    WINTHROP.  39 

Dick  kissed  me — and  the  next  day  we  ran  away  and  got 
married. 

CONS.     You — you  ran  away — with  your  own  husband  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  I  had  to.  Aunt,  Jane  says  she'll  never  forgive 
us.  But  she  will.  I  always  did  run  away  to  get  married. 
Dick  and  I  are  having  another  honeymoon. 

CONS.  I—  I  am  very  glad  you  are  happy  again,  Barbara. 

MRS.  DICK.  Thank  you,  my  dear;  I  knew  you  would  be. 
I — I  wish  you  were  happy,  too,  Constance.  (In  a  serious  tone.) 

CONS.     I? 

MRS.  DICK.  Forgive  me,  Constance — but — I — I  know  things 
aren't  quite  as  they  should  be.  Perhaps  I  know  more  than  I 
ought  to.  Women  always  do.  Your  husband  hasn't  been  here 
since  he  landed  ;  and  that  was  two  weeks  ago.  I  am  so  happy 
now  with  Dick — I  don't  like  to  see  you  miserable ;  and  I  feel 
as  if  /might  have  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

CONS.     You  ? 

MRS.  DICK.  I  was  always  such  a  thoughtless  creature! 
One  night  last  winter  I  told  you  how  Dick  found  Douglas  at 
Mrs.  Dunbar's  house  once  or  twice.  I  thought  it  was  great 
fun  then  ;  but  I  shouldn't  think  so  now.  When  I  was  a  grass 
widow  I  often  met  Mrs.  Dunbar.  She's  a  grass  widow,  too, 
you  know.  Grass  widows  always  do  meet  each  other  ;  and 
they  always  talk  about  the  infelicities  of  married  life.  That's 
one  reason  I'm  glad  to  join  the  army  of  married  women  again. 
Mrs.  Dunbar  told  me  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  business  con 
nection  with  Mr.  Wiuthrop  and  her. 

Enter  MAID  up  L. 

MAID.     Mr.  Scott  is  here,  madam. 

MRS.  DICK.     He's  the  very  man. 

CONS.  Ask  him  to  come  in  here,  Jeanette.  (Exit  MAID.) 
What  do  you  mean,  Barbara? 

MRS.  DICK.  Mrs.  Dunbar  said  Buxton  Scott  knew  all  about 
it.  Ask  him,  my  dear,  at  once.  I'll  leave  you  with  him.  Is 
your  mother  in  ? 

CONS.     Yes. 

MRS.  DICK.  I'll  run  and  tell  her  about  Dick  and  me.  I 
know  she'll  be  glad  to  hear  it.  (Exit  R.  1  E. 

Enter  BUXTON  SCOTT,  up  L.) 

SCOTT.  Constance,  my  dear !  I  am  very  sorry  to  come  on 
such  an  errand.  (Taking  her  hand.}  Is  there  anything  you 
wish  to  say  to  me  before  Douglas  arrives  ? 

CONS.  Yes  ;  I  wish  to  ask  you  a  question.  Have  you  ever 
had  any  business  connection  with — Mr.  Winthrop — and — and 
Mrs.  Hepworth  Dunbar? 

SCOTT  Mrs.  —  Duubar?  (Aside.)  Of  course!  —  I  might 
have  known  a  woman  would  pop  up  somewhere  in  this  case. 
(Aloud.)  Yes,  Constance,  I  had.  But  that  is  a  professional 
confidence. 


40  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

CONS.  As  you  please,  Mr.  Scott.  It  is  not  a  matter  that 
can  now  affect  the  future  relations  of  Mr.  Winthrop  and  me. 
We  can  never  come  together  again.  But  it  is  not  too  late 
for  me  to — be— just — if  I  have  wronged  him. 

SCOTT.  (Aside.)  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  give  the  devil  a  single 
point  in  the  case — even  for  the  sake  of  my  professional  honor  ; 
he  doesn't  care  a  rap  for  his  professional  honor.  (Aloud.}  I'll 
tell  you  the  whole  truth,  Constance.  Your  brother  Clarence — 

CONS.     Clarence!  what  of  him? 

SCOTT.  He  was  a  confidential  clerk,  and  he  speculated  in 
stocks — like  many  another  young  man.  Result — a  defalcation 
— fifty  thousand  dollars. 

CONS.     Defalcation ! 

SCOTT.  Douglas  saved  him  from  imprisonment  and  disgrace 
— (she  starts)— by  meeting  the  whole  amount  himself,  out  of 
his  own  fortune. 

CONS.     Imprisonment — disgrace  !    (Sinking  in  chair  R.  c.) 

SCOTT.  It  was  impossible  to  prevent  the  criminal  arrest  of 
Clarence  without  the  consent  of  all  the  creditors.  The  only 
one  that  refused  was  Mrs.  Hepworth  Dunbar,  to  whom  a  large 
amount  of  the  misplaced  securities  belonged.  She  had  certain 
social  grudges  to  make  good;  Mr.  Douglas  Winthrop  had 
declined  to  allow  his  wife  to  be  introduced  to  Mrs.  Dunbar. 
She  had  now  an  opportunity  to  disgrace  the  family.  Your 
husband  was  compelled  to  call  upon  her — frequently — in  per 
son.  His  last  call  was  late  one  night.  Clarence  would  have 
been  arrested  the  next  day.  Douglas's  appeal  was  in  vain.  He 
was  called  suddenly  from  her  house  that  night  by  a  messenger 
from  home.  On  the  following  morning  I  called  on  Mrs.  Dun- 
bar  myself.  I  told  her  that  the  child  of  Douglas  Winthrop 
had  died  the  night  before.  Even  a  woman  like  that  has  a 
heart.  Mrs.  Dunbar  had  lost  a  child  herself;  and  the  memory 
of  her  own  sorrow  made  her  merciful.  Your  brother  was 
saved.  His — fault — is  a  secret  .(Enter  DOUGLAS,  up  L.  SCOTT 
turns.)  Douglas. 

(Nodding  and  moving  up  c.  DOUGLAS  bows  to  him. 
CONSTANCE  ' 'turns,  and  they  look  at  each  other  a  mo 
ment  ;  then  DOUGLAS  moves  across  and  down  to  her  R., 
extending  his  hand  frankly  y  and  taking  her  hand. 

DOUG.  Constance.  (He  holds  Tier  hand  a  moment ;  then 
drops  it ;  both  standing  a  moment  in  silence,  looking  down. 

CONS.  Douglas — I — I  have  this  moment  beard  of  a  great  kind 
ness  you  have  done  my  brother  and — me.  (DOUGLAS  glances 
sharply  up  at  SCOTT.)  Do  not  blame  him.  I  asked  him  to  tell 
me.  I — (with  deep  feeling) — I  thank  you,  Douglas. 

DOUG.  I  only  did  what  any  man  of  proper  feeling  would 
have  done  under  the  same  circumstances.  (A  long  silence, 
both  looking  down.) 

DOUG.  (Crossing  I.)  Mr.  Scott,  we  will  proceed  with  the 
business  before  us.  (ScOTT  up  c.,  looks  from  one  to  the  other, 


YOUtfG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  41 

alternately,  several  times;  then  moves  down  to  table,  near  c., 
front.} 

SCOTT.  I  have  drawn  up  four  documents.  (Taking  papers 
from  Ms  pocket.}  These  two  are  duplicates.  (Reads  endorse 
ment  on  one  of  the  papers.}  "  Douglas  Winthrop  and  Con 
stance  Winthrop — Deed  of  Separation." 

( DOUGLAS  and  CONSTANCE  sit  L.  find-  K..  SCOTT  sits  at 
trilil.t-  ;  fit/  it*  tlie  paper  ;  and  reads  in  a  rapid,  business 
like  tone.) 

"This  indenture,  made  the  seventh  day  of  May,  eighteen  hun 
dred  and  eighty-two,  by  and  between  Douglas  Winthrop,  of  the 
city  and  State  of  New  York,  party  of  the  first  part,  and  Con 
stance  Winthrop,  of  the  same  place,  party  of  the  second  part — 
Witnesseth  :  Whereas  the  said  parties  of  the  first  and  second 
parts  were  lawfully  united  in  wedlock  on  the  twenty-eighth  day 
of  June,  in  the  year"-  -  (He  stops  suddenly  in  his  quick  reading  ; 
the  tone  of  his  voice  changing,  and  speaking  sloicly,  with  natural 
feeling.}  I  remember  that  day  perfectly.  We  all  drove  to  the 
church  together  from  the  old  homestead,  near  Concord.  The 
marriage  service  never  seemed  so  beautiful  to  me  as  it  did 
that  morning1.  Your  dear  old  father's  voice,  Constance,  had 
more  than  a  pastor's  tenderness  in  it  as  he  uttered  the  words 
which  you  both  repeated  after  him — "  for  better,  for  worse,  in 
sickness  and  in  health,  to  love  and  to  cherish,  until  death  us 
do  part."  (CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS  rise  to  their  feet  R.  and 
L.,  showing  signs  of  rising  emotion,  as  SCOTT  proceeds.}  When 
you  knelt  at  the  chancel-rail  before  him,  his  voice  was  trembling 
as  he  repeated  that  beautiful  prayer :  Send  thy  blessing  upon 
these  thy  servants  ;  that  they  may  ever  remain  in  perfect  love 
and  peace  together.  (CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS  drop  their 
heads  sadly.}  As  he  pronounced  the  blessing — of  a  pastor  and 
father  in  one — the  sun  came  from  behind  a  cloud — and  the 
light  streamed  through  the  window  on  your  heads.  Douglas' 
mother  was  leaning  on  my  arm.  (CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS 
turn  up  stages,  and  L.,  standing  uith  backs  to  audience  and 
thtir  heads  boiced  deeply.}  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  a 
smile  shone  through  them  ;  as  if  the  love  of  a  mother's  heart 
was  pouring  its  blessinpr  upon  both  her  children — like  the  sun 
shine  through  the  window.  (His  voice  is  a  little  broken,  and 
he  brushes  a  tear  from  his  eye  with  his  handkerchief.}  But 
(brushes  away  another  tear,  leaving  handkerchief  on  table) — hem — 
this  is  a  digression.  We  will  proceed  with  the  business 
before  us. 

-—DouG.  (With  choking  voice.}  Please  read  the  papers  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  Mr.  Scott. 

CONS.  We— (choking)— we  need  not  delay  more  than  is — 
absol  utely — necessary. 

SCOTT.  (Resuming  hu  rapid  business  tone  ;  reading.)  "  And 
whereas  said  parties  of  the  first  and  second  parts"— but  we 
shall  not  sign  this  instrument  until  we  have  considered  the 


42  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP. 

other  papers.  We  will  dispose  of  them  at  once.  (Putting  down 
the  Deed  of  Separation,  taking  up  another  paper  and  rising.} 
This  is  a  deed  whereby  Douglas  Winthrop  conveys  in  fee  simple 
to  Constance  Winthrop  the  old  homestead  where  she  was  born, 
near  Concord,  Massachusetts.  (Pause.}  Some  of  the  happiest 
hours  of  my  life  were  passed  there.  You  two  childien'were 
always  running  about  the  place.  Constance  was  a  perfect 
little  torn-boy.  Ha-ha  ha  !  You  both  gave  me  a  particularly 
warm  reception,  one  day,  when  I  had  just  arrived  from  New 
York.  I  was  going  up  the  gravel  walk.  Your  father  was 
coming  down  the  steps  to  meet  me.  Constance  came  bounding 
around  the  corner,  and  you  after  her.  She  was  running  one 
way  and  looking  the  other.  As  your  father  was  helping  me  to 
my  feet,  he  remarked  that  those  children  were  always  upset 
ting  something.  Ha-ha  !  Five  minutes  after  that,  Douglas 
was  in  the  cherry-tree,  and  you  were  holding  up  your  little 
apron  for  the  fruit  ; — the  old  cherry-tree  down  in  the  corner, 
near  the  summer-house. 

CONS.     Oh,  no— the  cherry-tree  was  in  the  other  corner. 
-DOUG.     Over  near  the  old  well. 

SCOTT.  So  it  was.  When  you  both  grew  older,  I  often  saw 
you  walking  arm  in  arm,  on  the  lawn — after  the  stars  came 
out.  Constance  was  always  explaining  to  me  that  you  were 
giving  her  lessons  in — astronomy.  You  were  quite  as  likely 
to  be  telling  her  where  the  stars  wer«,  in  the  afternoon, 
as  at  night.  Those  were  delightful  days  at  the  old  home 
stead. 

DOUGLAS  and  CONSTANCE.  Delightful!  (With  thoughtful 
manner,  as  if  the  force  of  old  memories  was  beginning  to 
influence  tJiem.) 

SCOTT.  You  had  a  lover's  quarrel  about  that  time.  Con 
stance  had  given  you  a  pair  of  slippers  she  had  been  working 
for  you.  When  you  quarrelled  she  took  them  away  from  you, 
and  gave  them  to  me.  I  remember,  Constance  had  a  little 
dark  bay  pony. 

CONS.    Oh,  no  \— (moving  to  R.  c.,  near  SCOTT)— it  was  gray. 

DOUG.  With  a  black  spot  on  the  left  shoulder.  (Moving 
down  L.  c.) 

SCOTT.     Dappled  gray— so  it  was.     His  name  was  Jack. 

CONS.     Oh,  no  ! 

DOUG.     No  ! 

CONS.     It  was  Jenny. 

SCOTT.     Oh,  yes— of  course — Jenny.     The  first  time  Douglas 
helped    you    to    mount — Jenny — (turning  to  DOUGLAS) — you 
gave  her  too  strong  a  lift  ! 
,^-DOUG.     Yes.     (With  a  smile.} 

BCOTT.     (To  CONSTANCE.)     You  fell  over  on  the  other  side  ! 

CONS.  Yes.  (CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS  laugh  gently  and 
pleasantly.  SCOTT  laughs  with  them  quietly,  moving  back  a  step.} 

SCOTT.     The  old  family  carriage  horse — his  name  was  Jack. 

DOUG.     He  was  dark  bay.     (To  CONSTANCE.)     You  used  to 


YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP.  43 

drive  Jack  for  your  father — (stepping  to  her  in  front  of  SCOTT) 
— when  he  made  his  pastoral  visits.  (SCOTT  gradually  retires 
up  stage  L.) 

CONS.  I  al  ways  sat  in  the  carriage,  to  keep  the  flies  off  Jack. 
^>  DOUG,  I  often  met  you  on  the  road  ;  and  I  used  to  think 
you  were  doing  as  pious  a  work  outside,  making  the  old  horse 
comfortable,  as  your  father  was  doing  inside. 

CONS.     Old  Jack  was  one  of  the  family.     Dear  old  Jack  ! 

DOUG.     Dear  old  Jack  ! 

SCOTT.     (CTpL.  c.)     Dear  old  Jack!    (He  stands  up  L.,  pre 
tending  to  look  over  deed,  but  watching  tJiem.) 
,---  DOUG.     Do  you  remember  one  such  afternoon,  Constance  ? — 
You  were  sitting  in  front  of  the  little  house  where  the  old 
sexton's  widow  lived. 

CONS.  (Smiling.)  How  'often  we  used  to  run  down  there 
when  we  were  children  !  (Sitting  front.) 

*•"  DOUG.  Yes — she  always  had  fresh  doughnuts  for  us,  on 
Saturdays.  (Sitting  at  her  side  near  the  table.  CONSTANCE  nods, 
smiling.)  But  we  had  grown  older,  at  the  time  I  am  thinking 
of  now.  I  joined  you  in  the  carriage.  I— I  asked  you  a 
question,  that  afternoon.  (Taking  her  hand.)  Do  you  remem 
ber  your  answer  ? 

CONS.     Yes.     (As  if  lost  in  memory.) 

•-'  DOUG.  That  was  the  very  word  1  I  asked  you  to  be — my — 
wife.  Oh,  Constance  ! — I  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  world. 

SCOTT.  They're  doing  very  well  without  a  lawyer.  (Exit 
up  L.) 

DOUG.  We  were  in  the  shade  of  the  great  elm.  Old  Jack 
turned  his  head  and  looked  hack  at  us,  as  if  "he  was  giving 
us  his  consent.  This  ring— (referring  to  one  on  her  finger) — 
was  the  pledge  of  the  promises  we  made  to  each  other,  that 
day.  Our  initials  are  engraved  inside  of  it. 

CONS. — And  the  word — "  Forever." 

^-  DOUG.  When  I  placed  it  on  your  finger,  in  the  dear  old 
home — (gradually  extending  his  arm  about  her  waist) — I  drew 
you  to  me— (raising  her  hand  toward  his  lips) — and  I—  (He  sud- 
'denly  stops  ;  his  eye  resting  upon  the  Deed  of  Separation,  on"tthe 
'  'lie  near  him.  He  slowly  withdraws  his  arm  and  drops  her 

nd  ;  readies  forward  and  takes  the  paper  ;  finally  holding  it' 

both  hands  before  him  and  looking  at  it  steadily.  CONSTANCE 
looks  at  the  paper,  draws  vpt  rises,  and  walks  B.  DOUGLAS 
sftarfs  to  his  feet,  drops  the  paper  upon  the  table,  and  turns  up  L., 
under  strong  emotion.  lie  stands  for  a  moment,  before  speaking, 
as  if  collecting  his  ilioughttt  and  bringing  his  feelings  ,undei\ 
control. )  We — we  were  losing  ourselves — in — in  dreams  of  the 
past. 

CONS.     We  had  forgotten  the — the  present. 
_  DOUG.     (As  if  suddenly  seeing  SCOTT  out  "L.,  and  beckoning 
with-   a   nervous  movement)     Ah— Mr.  Scott — Mr.  Scott  !     (He 
/'m/y/x  dowti*L.,  a  few  steps.     Re-enter  SCOTT,  up  L.     The  deed, 
folded,  is  still  in  his  hand.     He  stops  c.,  and  looks  R.  and  L.) 


44  YOUNG   MRS.   WINTHROP. 

SCOTT.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  left  my  handkerchief  in  my  hat 
outside.  (Moving  down  c.  He  discovers  his  handkerchief  on 
the  table  ;  picks  it  up  quickly,  and  thrusts  it  into  his  pocket, 
ff'ancing  each  way.  He  then  begins  to  read  wry  rapidly  from 
the  deed  in  Ms  hand.)  "  Said  party  of  the  first  part  does  by 
these  presents  grant,  sell,  remise,  release,  convey  and  confirm — 
m — m — m — heirs  and  assigns  forever  the  premises  hereinafter 
described — m — m — m — in — namely,  to  wit — South  side  of  the 
Boston  High-road — intersection  of  the  county  line — thence  in  a 
southerly  direction  along  the  western  bank  of  the  Coolsac 
Creek" —  Speaking  of  the  Coolsac  Creek,  by  the  by — (dropping 
suddenly  to  a  conversational  tone) — I  saw  the  same  old  clamp 
of  willows  on  the  opposite  bank,  when  I  was  there  last 
summer.  That  was  a  sort  of  meeting-place  for  young  lovers. 
I  remember,  one  day — I  met  Douglas  and  a  lady  there.  You 
remember  it,  Douglas — what  was  her  name?  It  was  Douglas 
and  Miss — (turning  to  CONSTANCE,  who  draws  up  sharply  and 
looks  around.  DOUGLAS  looks  in  surprise) — that  particular 
friend  of  yours,  Constance — Miss — Kate — Miss — really,  I — 

CONS.     Kate  Fairfield ! 

SCOTT,  Yes — that's  the  name.  Douglas  was  arranging  a 
bunch  of  violets  in  her  hair.  But  this  is  a  digression.  I  beg 
your  pardon.  (Reads  rapidly.)  "  With  all  and  singular  the 
tenements,  hereditaments,  and  appurtenances  thereunto  belong 
ing  ;  and  the  said  party  of  the  first  part" — 

Pardon  me,  Mr.  Scott — but  you  are  mistaken  ; — 
I  was  never  at  the  place  you  refer  to  with  Miss  Kate  Fair- 
field. 

CONS.  (With  great  dignity  and  signs  of  rising  jealousy.)  Mr. 
Scott's  memory  may  be  more  accurate  than  yours. 

DOUG.     But'l  protest— I — 

CONS.     You  were  saying,  Mr.  Scott? — 

SCOTT.  Let  me  see — it  was — no — ah — now  I  think  again — 
I  get  you  young  people  so  mixed  up  when  I  recall  those  days — 
it  was  Mr.  Lawrence  Armytage — and — Constance.  ( DOUGLAS 
and  CONSTANCE  both  start.) 

CONS.     Nothing  of  the  kind  !     (Moving  down,  R.,  a  few  steps, 
indignantly.      SCOTT   turns  up  stage,  c.,  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  audience,  and  looking  up  at  a  picture  on  the  wall.} 
-- •  DOUG.     Mr.  Lawrence  Armytage  was  frequently  at  the  house 
— when  /called. 

CONS.  Kate  Fairfield  lived  on  the  highroad  between  your 
house  and  mine. 

-  DOUG.     Mr.  Armytage  had  always  dropped  in — to  see — your 
father. 

CONS.  Whenever  you  were  late  —  you  —  (choking)  —  yoil 
always  said  it  was  the  old  sexton's  widow  !  (Angrily,  crossing 
to  him  L.)  I  saw  you,  myself — talking  with  Kate  Fairfield, 
over  the  gate — while  I  was  passing  in  the  carriage  with  father 
— the  very  day  before  I  took  away  your  slippers  and  gave  them 
to  Mr.  Scott— and  I'm  glad  I  did  it !  (Drawing  up  before  him 


MHS.    WINTHROP.  45 

angrily ;  then  turning  her  lack  on  Mm;  and  returning  R., 
with  a  dignity  in  absurd  contrast  withtJie  words  and  situation.) 
f,  DOUG.  (Following  her  R.)  And  the  very  day  after  that  you  dis 
covered  that  I  was  only  asking  Miss  Fairfield  if  her  mother 
would  lend  my  mother  the  hemmer  of  her  sewing-machine ! — 
and  you  took  the  slippers  away  from  Mr.  Scott  and  sent  them 
back  to  me  ! 

CONS.  Oh  !  (He  returns  L.,  triumphantly.  She  turns  to 
ward  him.)  I  didn't  send  them  back  to  you  ! 

DOUG.  You? — (Turning  suddenly)— Mr.  Scott  t  (Appealing 
earnestly  to  SCOTT,  up  stage.) 

SCOTT.     Eh  ?    (Jumping  around  suddenly.) 
CONS.     (To  SCOTT.)     He  says  /  sent  those  slippers  back  to 
him.     You  know  I  didn't — don't  you  ? 

SCOTT.     Certainly,  you  didn't.     (Starling  down  c.) 
.--"•DOUG,     The  package  was  addressed  in  her  handwriting, 

SCOTT.  Yes — Constance  wrote  the  address.  (Still  moving 
down.) 

CONS.     Mr.  Scott  sent  it — by  the  boy — himself. 
SCOTT.     Yes — I  sent  it.     (c.,  front.) 

"-  DOUG.     It  is  quite  immaterial ;—  I  dare  eay  you  sent  another 
pair  to  Mr,  Arm  yt  age ! 

CONS.  O — o — o — o — o — h  \  (Bursting  into  sobs,  R.  c.  DOUG 
LAS  stands  L.  c.,  with  his  arms  folded.  SCOTT  looks  from  one  to 
the  other  a  moment.) 

SCOTT.  Ah,  by  the  way,  it  has  jast  occurred  to  me  :  it 
was  Mr.  Armytage  and  Miss  Fairfield  I  saw  together  under  the 
willows. 

CONS,  Oh.  (Looking  up  from  her  sobs)  It  wasn't  either  of 
us. 

SCOTT.     When  I  saw  Douglas  in  the  lane — you  were  with 
him,  Constance. 
x*  DOUG.     Oh.    It  was  both  of  us. 

SCOTT.  (To  DOUGLAS.)  You  had  been  gathering  some 
water-lilies  for  Constance, 

CONS.     Oh,  yes  f    (Brightly,  with  sudden  recollection.) 
SCOTT.     ( To  CONSTANCE.)    It  was  the  day  he  fell  into  the 
pond. 

-  DOUG.     Yes  I 

SCOTT.     He  got  into  the  mud  up  to  the  knees. 
CONS.     I  remember  I 
^DouG.     So  do  1 1 

SCOTT.  (To  DOUGLAS.)  Constance  tried  to  pull  you  out  of 
the  water  \  and  (To  CONSTANCE)  he  pulled  you  in  1  (CON 
STANCE  and  DOUGLAS  burst  into  a  merry  laugh,  nodding  at  each 
other  across  SCOTT,)  We  will  proceed  with  the  business  before 
us.  (Tlieir  faces  suddenly  drop.  They  turn  up  stage  R.  and  L.) 
Returning  to  the  original  Deed  of  Separation.  (Taking  up  the 
Deed  CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS  look  up  at  each  other,  across 
stage]  at  back;  then  drop  their  eyes.  SCOTT  reads)  "  The  said 
Douglas  Winthrop  and  the  said  Constance  Winthrop,his  wife, 


46  YOUNG   MRS.    WINTHROP, 

have  by  mutual  consent  agreed  to  live  separate  and  apart  from 
each  other  ; — and  whereas  the  aforesaid" —  (Enter  EDITH  R. 
1  E.)  Edith  ! 

EDITH.     Mr.  Scott ! 

SCOTT.  (Going  to  her.)  I  have  some  news  for  you,  Edith. 
Your  brother  Douglas  is  here. 

EDITH.     Oh ! — where  is  he  ? 

(He  leads  her  to  DOUGLAS,  who  meets  her  L.  c.) 

EDITH.     Douglas  !    (Throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck.} 

~)OUG.     Edith — my  little  sister  ! 

EDITH.     Oh — I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  home — so  glad ! 
We  shall  all  be  happy,  now. 
_^J)ouG.     Happy  ! — Yes. 

EDITH.     Constance  has  missed  you  so  much,  Douglas— so 
much  !    You  won't  go  away  from  us  again — will  you  ? 
_^  DOUG.    I — I — 

SCOTT.  My  little  pet!  (Taking  her  from  DOUGLAS,  who 
turns  up  stage  a  few  steps. ) 

EDITH.     H'm ! 

SCOTT.  I  know  you  have  a  great  deal  to  tell,  Douglas,  but 
not  now.  *  Sit  down,  Edith.  (Leading  her  to  seat  L.) 

EDITH.  Oh,  very  well — I  will  wait.  But  I  am  so  glad  Doug 
las  is  home  again. 

~  )UG.  (Apart — in  SCOTT'S  ear.)  We — we  cannot  go  on  with 
this — in  her  presence. 

SCOTT.  (Apart  to  him.)  I  need  not  read  the  rest  of  the 
paper.  You  and  Constance  can  sign  it — in  silence.  (DQjioiiAS. 
retires  from  him  and  turns  up  c.,  a  little  to  the  right,  dropping 
his.  head.  CONSTANCE  stands  R.,  partly  up  stage.  SCOTT  re 
turns  to  the  table,  near  c.,  front ;  takes  up  the  'Deed  of  Separation 
and  turns,  facing  CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS.)  There  is  one 
piece  of  property  not  mentioned  in  any  of  these  deeds ; — a 
burial  lot  in  Greenwood  Cemetery,  with  one  little  grave. 
(A  pause,  CONSTANCE  and  DOUGLAS  looking  down,  with  bowed 
heads.) 

EDITH.  Mother  and  I  went  to  Greenwood  yesterday,  Doug 
las.  You  and  Constance  must  go  with  us  next  time.  The 
place  where  Rosie  lies  is  covered  with  flowers.  (CONSTANCE 
and  DOUGLAS  give  way  to  their  tears,  both  dropping  their  faces 
into  their  hands.) 

SCOTT.  Even  a  lawyer  cannot  divide  that  property,  nor  the 
memories  of  a  father  and  mother  that  cluster  about  the 
grave  of  their  child  : — and  there  is  a  little  soul  that  belongs 
to  you  both.  (He  turns  to  the  table,  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
the  Deed  to  the  last  page.)  You— you  will  both  sign — here— if 
you  please.  (He  takes  up  the  pen,  dips  it  into  the  ink,  and  turns, 
holding  it  toward  them.  During  this  action,  they , have  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms,  weening.  Picture^  SCOTT  turns  and 
'drops  the  pen,  taking  the  deed  and  tearing  it.)  I  have  won  the 
case.  (He  walks  up  c.  Enter  MRS.  RUTH  R.  1.  E.  She  starts, 


YOUNG    MRS.    WIXTHROP.  47 

with  an  exclamation,  looking   at   DOUGLAS  and   CONSTANCE, 
with  her  back  to  the  audience.     DOUGLAS  look*  up  to  her  and 

meets  her  dmrn  K.,  emlracingji££. 

Entti-  HKi{jJKinv/;>  L.     Places  a  ring  upon  EDITH 'zjfirtit  fnyfr. 
Enter  MRS.  DICK  R.  1.  E.,  sailing  in  rapidly. 

MRS.  DICK.  (As  she   enters.)      I've  been  away  from  Dick 
•for  nearly  two  hours.      (She  turns  c.,  seeing  DOUGLAS.)    Mr. 
Winthrop  !    (Goes  to  him  and  takes  'his  hand.) 
^___ DOUG.  (Smiling.)    Mrs.  Dick  ! 

MRS.  DICK.  Constance  !  (Turning  to  CONSTANCE.)  I  really 
must  go.  Dick'll  be  lonely.  We  haven't  been  separated  so 
long  since  we've  been  married — this  time.  Good  by,  all. 
(Going  up  L.,  nods  to  SCOTT  as  she  passes  him  up  c.)  Ah — 
Mr.  Scott. 

SCOTT.     Mrs.  Mackenzie  ! 

MRS.  DICK.  (Stopping  up  L.  c.,  turning.)    Mrs.  Chetwyn. 

SCOTT.     Eh  ? 

MRS.  DICK.     Dick  and  I  have  got  married  again. 

SCOTT.  Married  ?  You  and — allow  me.  •  (Offers  her  a  card.) 
My  professional  card. 

MRS.  DICK.  Thank  you — no.  We've  had  quite  enough  of 
the  law  ;  and  if  we  ever  go  anywhere  by  way  of  Connecticut, 
we'll  take  through  tickets.  Call  on  us,  Mr.  Scott — any  evening 
— Dick  and  I  are  always  at  home.  (Exit  up  L.) 

SCOTT.     The  devil  has  lost  that  case,  too. 

^^,.^-DOUG.  (To  MRS.  RUTH,  with  one   arm   about  CONSTANCE'S 
.^"      waist ;    raising  her  hand  in  his  and  looking  at  the  ring  on 
her  finger.)     Dear  mother,   our  hearts   have    conquered   us. 
(Turning  to  CONSTANCE.)    We  can  trust  to  them  hereafter. 

CON.     (Looking  down  at  the  ring.)    Yes,  Douglas,  "  Forever." 

CURTAIN. 


'•'  "V, 


I  was  associated  with  the  original  Madison 
Square  Theatre   for  a  couple  of  years.    It 
a  great   company.   The  theatre  was  the 
smallest   in  New  York  at  the  time;   with  but 
a  tiny  stage.    It  has  been  long  demolished* 
Although  have  no  recollection  of  playing  In 

Young  Mrs.  Winthrop",   yet   the  marks   in 
front  of  the  character  of  Douglas,    must 
indicate  my  having  played  the  part.    If  09, 
it  was   more  than   likely  with  one  o>f  the 
travelling  companies. 

Charles,   and  Daniel  Frohman,   were   in  thoat 
days  the  guiding  hands  of  this   famous 
theatre. 

Fred  Ross • 


